ACT 28: Scapegoat
by Galaxy1001D
Summary: After Big Fau's attack on Paradigm City, the populace revolts against the betrayal of the Paradigm Corporation. Civil war looms and Roger Smith must once again battle the white megadeus and his own doubts. THE BIG O: SEASON THREE
1. Roger's Journal

_The Big O__ and all of its settings and characters are owned by Cartoon Network, Sunrise, and Bandai Visual._

_Opening theme song by _Rui Nagai

THE BIG O:

ACT 28

SCAPEGOAT

_Big-O!_

_Big-O! Big-O! Big-O!_

_Big-O!_

_Big-O! Big-O! Big-O!_

_Cast in the name of God!_

**Negotiator**

_Ye not the guilty!_

**Android**

_We have come to terms!_

**Butler**

_Big-O!_

**Officer**

_Big-O!_

_Big-O! Big-O! Big-O!_

_Big-O!_

_Big-O! Big-O! -O! -O! Big-O!_

_Chapter One: Roger's Journal_

_My name is Roger Smith, I perform a necessary job here in the city of Amnesia_. Not the most promising start for a journal entry, but it had to get better from here. _This city, Paradigm City, is a city of Forgetfulness. One day 40 years ago, every human and every robot lost all memory of all events, everything that happened prior to that day. _True but irrelevant. _But humans are adaptable creatures, they make do and go on living. _Not only irrelevant, but useless too._ Memories are like nightmares. They can appear when you least expect them. _True, and downright chilling.

Roger closed his eyes and allowed the sand flowing through the hourglasses on his desk to calm him. He was thumbing through his diary, tying to make sense of the time that had passed since he had met R Dorothy Wayneright.

Nearly everyone who could read and write kept a diary. They used it to write down notable events and their innermost secrets. The danger of a journal being used for blackmail material didn't stop the citizens of Paradigm City. Most people, whether they admitted it or not, were afraid that whatever happened forty years ago could happen again, and they wanted to leave themselves information on who they were and what life was like before their memories were lost. The trick of course was to make sure that the right person found the right diary, or they might accidentally assume someone else's identity. Aside of putting photographs of the journal's owner inside, no one had really found a satisfactory solution for that problem.

When did everything start to go wrong? Roger had mentally nick-named the last year, "The Year God Discovered Crack", because it seemed that life had stopped making sense after Dorothy Wayneright entered his life. Now, as he flipped through the pages of his journal, it was possible that the Almighty had been addicted to dangerous narcotics for years.

When did it _really_ start to go wrong? If he had to guess he would say that it happened when Ellen Waite had been assassinated by Red Destiny, Dorothy Wayneright's homicidal twin. Miss Waite was the first of many young men and women who had been assassinated for carrying memories from forty years ago. At the scene of each crime was written the words: "Cast in the name of God… Ye not guilty". The same words that scrolled across Big O's screen every time he went into battle.

Apparently the murders unlocked buried memories that Roger could have done without. Visions of barcodes, a horde of megadeuses attacking a city, books being burned, and bald children staring into fires haunted him, even a premonition of his confrontation with Red Destiny in the train tunnel.

After his encounter with Dorothy's doppelganger, things didn't get better. During the fight with three foreign megadeuses, he believed he was a homeless drifter in a version of Paradigm City before the Event that had erased the memories of its citizens and all but destroyed the human race. By the time he confronted his fears and snapped back to reality, Big O had lost an arm and Roger had nearly lost his life.

The three megadeuses contained parts of Big Fau, a white megadeus that the chairman of the Paradigm Corporation was obsessed with operating. Alex Rosewater even executed a coup, despite the fact that it was he and Paradigm who in reality had all the power! The Union, a secretive band of rebels devoted to destroying Paradigm City and all that it built, were just pawns in the end.

Rosewater had manipulated them into doing most of his dirty work. They had assassinated nearly all of the founding senators of Paradigm, removing the old guard his father Gordon had placed in positions of power so Alex could replace them with his own followers. They had delivered the parts needed to reconstruct Big Fau, allowing Alex Rosewater to play God with a giant weapon of mass destruction. They had even provided an excuse to attack Paradigm City and institute martial law. For a group that hated Alex and all that he stood for, they had been an incredibly cooperative bunch.

Big Fau was more than Roger had expected. Alex had obviously done his homework, because he knew right where to hit Big O: in the cockpit. One punch was enough to crack the protective cover of the Big O's collar and stun Roger into unconsciousness. Rosewater then had Big Fau send Roger and Big O to the bottom of the sea.

It was then that the world ceased to be real for him. He was swallowed by hallucinations, just as when he was battling the three foreign megadeuses. He saw Big O sink through a strange world of gears and buildings, a dead zone whose only inhabitants were the fish and, perhaps, the memories of those who had lived there in the distant past. He saw a light from above. He saw the photograph of a young Gordon Rosewater and a man who looked exactly like himself, right down the style of his double breasted suit. He saw himself wandering the gleaming streets that Paradigm City had possessed in the past, before the disaster that left the world without memories. He saw hundreds of Big Os, their dull black armor gleaming in the light of both laser and fire, charging forth to battle, while crimson duplicates of Big Duo flew through the air, the lights of their fire burning in the sky. He saw the Big O, sitting upon an endless heap of damaged and inoperative megadeuses. Inside its cracked shell, Roger Smith saw himself, strapped to the control seat and apparently dead. He saw a robot factory. In it, he saw robotic skeletons passing through a machine of some sort. When they exited the other side, Roger saw to his horror that they looked just like him, black suit and all. He saw a child, her pink sleeved arms up near the screen of a television. On the television, he saw himself, calling Big O as he had done so many times in the past.

He thought that Dorothy had revived him with her tank of oxygen, but his hallucinations didn't stop when he awoke. He somehow knew that Gordon Rosewater had given the blonde bombshell who called herself Angel the power to rewrite both the past and the present. It was as if Paradigm City was a product of her subconscious, a giant stage for unwitting actors to play their parts. The sky had been replaced by a roof with giant stage lights. Then it was replaced by a giant glowing grid. Dorothy allowed him to access a cannon that blew Big Fau in half, then a ghostly megadeus that the injured android called 'Big Venus' came and caused the entire city to vanish.

His next memory was driving through the streets of Paradigm City on his way to his first meeting with Dorothy Wayneright and Jason Beck. Nevermind the fact that he passed Angel and Dorothy on the way. Nevermind the fact that _he_ was the android, not Dorothy, and Jason Beck took him apart and put him into a car trunk. Nevermind the fact that everything he was experiencing was impossible.

When he came to, he discovered that many of his visions were real. Big Fau _had_ been blown in half. Paradigm City _had_ been attacked from above, and many of its domes were cracked open like broken eggshells. R Dorothy Wayneright really _was_ standing behind Big O's command chair wearing a wetsuit, despite the fact that without her main memory, it was impossible for her to move about. If his experiences weren't real then how did she get there? How did he defeat Big Fau?

How much was real and how much was hallucination? If it was all a hallucination, what was causing it and was there any way to save his sanity? If _any_ of it was real how much of it was true and how much was false? If all of it was real, how does one survive in a world gone completely insane?

Roger turned to a blank page and started writing. _Theory One: My recent experiences were completely fictitious, the result of stress, delusion, or insanity. _Below that sentence he divided the next part of the page into two columns by drawing a line in the middle. On the left side he wrote: _Plus: What I experienced is not only impossible, but contradictory._ On the other side he wrote: _Minus: Despite being the 'domineus' of Big O and center of my own existence, I perceived Angel as being the one to make the decisions that affected reality, not me. Would my ego really let someone else be the symbol of all mankind and our ability to shape our destinies?_

On the 'plus' column he added: _Hallucinations could be based on Gordon Rosewater's ramblings._ That could explain it. Gordon Rosewater planted ideas in his head when he rescued the old man and Angel from Vera Ronstadt. The stress of the battle combined with the near death experience could have caused Roger to hallucinate. Maybe his brain wasn't getting enough oxygen in that damaged cockpit.

On another page he wrote _Theory Two: Paradigm City is not real. It is a stage in which we are forced to repeat history for an unknown purpose._ Once again he divided the page in half. Roger had to admit that he didn't like this one. The idea that _no one_ in Paradigm City had control over their own destiny and that they were all unwitting actors on an enormous stage stuck in his craw. Nonetheless he had to explore this possibility, or more importantly, why he felt it was a possibility.

On the left column he wrote: _Plus:_ _The comic strip that I encountered as a drifter. The stage during the summary of how I met Big O. My hallucinations concerning Angel and Gordon Rosewater._ On the right column he wrote: _Minus: No evidence of such a cycle. The buildings in the illegal residence zones are over forty years old indicating that they existed prior to the Event. No evidence of an audience or a reason for such a bizarre and long-term pageant to play out. _

It seemed as if his insecurities of whether or not he was Roger Smith or just an unwitting actor playing the role was just as great in his second grand hallucination as when he imagined himself as a homeless drifter. Both times before each hallucination he had spoken to Gordon Rosewater, who alleged that everything that he had written his unfinished book, _Metropolis_, was a lie.

Of course he did. As the founder of the post amnesia civilization, Gordon Rosewater was the prime suspect for whatever calamity robbed the world of its memories in the first place wasn't he? Did anyone really believe that it was mere coincidence that after the Event Gordon found himself in a position to create a new society and own more money than God? It was natural for him to claim that his tales of a war fought with giant robots never happened and to imply that the entire world of Paradigm City was false. Before his stroke or whatever made him senile, he probably remembered enough to know that he was guilty as sin for destroying whatever civilization existed before the Event. Gordon never admitted anything. He simply claimed that everything was false, and because he was lying, it was easy to believe nothing that he had ever revealed was true.

It made sense. Gordon all but admitted that he had been implanting memories from before the event into orphan children for years. If Roger was getting too close… close enough to actually approach the great Gordon Rosewater for answers, then what better way throw off the investigation than to utter a cryptic phrase that would trigger a posthypnotic suggestion? Gordon would know what to say in order to release memories, including memories that didn't make sense or weren't successfully implanted in the first place. A good theory, it would be better if the theory had a shred of evidence to back it up.

Roger sighed and wrote on a third page. _Theory Three: I was one of the children Gordon placed memories in. Plus: Flashbacks that do not belong to me. Memories of a Paradigm City before the Event. Barcodes, Children staring into flames, etc. Minus: The photograph showing a younger Gordon Rosewater and myself apparently supervising the construction of the domes._

He sighed, for he felt obligated to write down the fourth theory, absurd as it might be. _Theory Four: I am at over sixty years old and had my memories modified so that I could live in the present day. Plus: The photograph. Gordon's reference to having made a deal with a Roger Smith forty years ago._ Roger's hand began to tremble at this point. _The vision of a Roger Smith factory could mean that there is something unnatural about me. _Stretching it. His hand was shaking so much it was getting hard to read his writing now. _The fact that I quit the force years ago but I still appear to be in my midtwenties. _That was it. He had to stop writing before he had a panic attack.

"Norman!" he shouted.

"Yes Master Roger?" the reply called in cultured tones. Roger was not aware that Norman Burg was in the room, but he had ceased to be amazed at his butler's ability to anticipate his needs and appear within seconds when summoned.

"Bring me a bourbon, and give it a bourbon chaser," he snapped, his black gloved hands pushing his jet-black hair off his forehead. He was sweating, almost panting. Okay, he _was_ panting. Dammit, he really needed that drink!

"Double order of bourbon, on the rocks," the tall, elderly butler put a glass tumbler on a saucer and placed on the table to Roger's right. Sure enough, it was filled with whiskey and ice cubes. Roger didn't even hear the bottle open.

He took a swig, groaned and leaned back in his chair and loosened his tie. "Thanks, Norman," he sighed. "Sorry I snapped at you."

"That's alright, sir," Norman replied gently. "What with the current situation the way it is, I suppose that we are all on edge."

"The current situation?" Roger repeated, raising one of his unique eyebrows. "What situation?"

"The riots, Master Roger," Norman clarified, a grave expression in the eye that wasn't covered by a patch. He held up the morning's newspaper. The headline quite clearly stated 'RIOTS RAVAGE PARADIGM'.

"How long has this been going on?" Roger asked as he took the newspaper to read it.

"For the last few days," Norman shrugged. "It appears that the populace have finally overcome the shock of Big Fau's attack."

"But they haven't gotten over their outrage," Roger frowned as he skimmed the paper.

The situation was predictable, when Roger thought about it. He really should have seen it coming. When Alex Rosewater, Gordon's insane son, attacked the city in his white megadeus, he didn't just assault the poor living outside the domes. He attacked the domed neighborhoods too. The only dome he spared was the one that held his palace, Paradigm Headquarters. Big O apparently hit that one with his 'Final Stage' cannon on accident when it blew Big Fau in half. That meant that there wasn't a district or neighborhood in Paradigm City that wasn't damaged somehow.

Worse yet, while attacking the city with aerial bombardment, Alex had ordered the military police to support the coup. In a final act of hubris, he had images of himself as the head of the 'New Order' broadcast to every television in Paradigm. Everyone who had seen the propaganda knew who was in the white megadeus attacking the city. Everyone knew that the Paradigm Corporation had turned on them.

The Paradigm Corporation was the backbone of the city; the framework of what was possibly the last bastion of civilization. In the chaos after the Event that took everyone's memories, Gordon Rosewater created a capitalist society where money equaled power. In theory, it was possible to climb socially if one had enough wealth.

Alex Rosewater, Gordon's heir, had decided to change things. The idea of a system of checks and balances didn't appeal to him. Neither did one where the Corporation was greater than any one man. He decided to eradicate that civilization, and replace it with one where he would have absolute control and undeniable power. He nearly destroyed what was left of humanity before Big O, Dorothy, and Roger stopped him.

Almost three weeks had passed after that battle, and now the shock had worn off and the citizens of the city were rising up in protest. Alex had attacked both rich and poor, had assaulted the respectable along with the untouchable. What was supposed to be a coup was threatening to turn into a civil war.

"Hm," Roger smirked. "I expect that we will be hearing from the Paradigm Corporation soon."

"It seems inevitable sir," Norman nodded.

"Well, then, here are my instructions," Roger opened a drawer on his desk and handed a sheet of paper to his butler.

Norman's single remaining eye widened in surprise as he read his orders. "I say," he said hesitantly after he read them a second time. "Isn't this… a little irregular?"

"These are irregular times," Roger shrugged.

"I suppose they are," Norman allowed, "but it seems unlikely that the members of the board will be willing to acquiesce to your request."

"Then tough on them," Roger smiled, but the smile didn't reach his eyes. "I'm through coming when they call. Alex Rosewater summoned me to his palace and I came like a good little boy. I'm not their errand boy any more. If they want my services, they can get them on my terms."

Norman wasn't sure if he liked the idea of his master picking a fight with the almighty Paradigm Corporation. "I'm sure they would be willing to pay a reasonable amount of money…"

"After the stunt that Rosewater pulled, we'll be lucky if money will be worth more than kindling when all this is over!" the negotiator snapped. "We better get the mansion ready for siege conditions. Who knows if civilization will even exist in a month or two?"

Knowing when his master had made up his mind, Norman bowed in surrender. "Very well, Master Roger. I'm sure you know best."

* * *

Meanwhile in the bar known as the Speak Easy, the burly bartender and his closest friends were boarding up the doors and windows. They had stockpiled food, water, and booze so they could live there for months even if the power went out. The only thing they had to worry about was looters breaking in. They had a television and a police radio scanner, so they would know when order was restored and they could resume business. They didn't know when the crisis would pass but they were confident it would. Over the years the city had been hit by a meteor, giant robots, riots, monsters, and floods. To these hardened men without families or other attachments, this was just one more storm to weather.

In a corner, the old man that Roger only knew as 'Big Ear' read the newspaper, _slowly_. Next to him on a table were a stack of newspapers containing all the crosswords puzzles Paradigm Press had published since the last crisis that sent Paradigm City into a state of extended emergency. His earphones were still in place, keeping him connected with the outside world. He ignored the pounding of the hammers as if he was either deaf or worked in construction all his life.

Suddenly the sound of hammers was replaced by the sound of splitting wood. An unfinished barricade was torn asunder by a man wearing pantyhose over his face and wielding a fire axe. "I'm Cannibal Cal!" the man shouted after he chopped his way into the bar. As the bartender and his fellows backed away the axe wielding man cried out. "And I'm coming to eat yuh!"

* * *

On a desk filled with hourglasses a phone rings. Norman's hand picks up the receiver and a sinister voice says:

_Next: Invitation_


	2. Invitation

_The Big O __and all of its settings and characters are owned by Cartoon Network, Sunrise, and Bandai Visual._

THE BIG O:

ACT 28

SCAPEGOAT

_Chapter Two: Invitation_

A chorus of clicking filled the room. The man sagged and tore the pantyhose off his head in disbelief. Nearly everyone in the room was holding a pistol, many of them revolvers. They were all pointed at him. Big Ear, who had barely looked up from his newspaper called out in a bored voice. "Calvin, what are you doing here? You're not a cannibal, you're an accountant."

Dropping his fire axe, Calvin somehow managed to stammer out a reply. "W-well, you know, th-there's no food. The Paradigm Corporation has turned against us! W-we're afraid to drink the water! The Corporation might have poisoned it!"

"Go home to your family," Big Ear suggested. "Take care of them and find a place to hide until this all blows over."

"Oh…" Calvin seemed almost disappointed. "Okay. See you guys. Take care."

"Later Calvin," some of the men chorused. The bartender put away his gun and shook his head at the idiocy of his fellow man.

Meanwhile, at the grocery store, a robbery was in progress. "There's a food shortage and we're not going to starve!" A man with a gun shouted. "Guys, grab all the food you can carry! In the meantime, nobody move or I'll shoot this hostage!" He put his arm around a pale teenage girl whose red hair was cut in a pageboy style. She was the only one in the store who hadn't run for cover when the thugs burst in.

"Please unhand me," the small and petite girl said in a clear, yet lifeless tone. "I will pose no threat and I need to finish my shopping while supplies last."

"Shut up, Girlie, or I'll break your neck!" the gunman shouted, using his arm to drag the girl by the neck for emphasis. Well, he tried to drag her by the neck anyway. The girl was as stiff as a statue and must have weighed nearly three hundred pounds.

The girl's small delicate hand clamped around his wrist like a vice.

"Hey! What...!" the thug cried out just before the slender girl seized him with both hands and hurled him into his fellows. "Yagh!"

The thugs looked up from the floor to see the winsome girl pick up the pistol and examine it. Before their unbelieving eyes she bent the barrel of the gun using only her bare hands. It was then they noticed that the girl's white skin had no color whatsoever. Her face held no expression. She didn't even flex any muscles or strain when she ruined the pistol. It was as if she was the walking dead. She dropped the now useless gun and turned her cool unblinking gaze to the looters on the floor in front of her.

"Sh-she's not human!" one of the thugs cried out.

"Run!" another cried. Almost as one the robbers scattered.

The black clad girl's gaze remained on an object on the floor where the criminals had been. She walked over and retrieved a second pistol that had been knocked out of a looter's hand moments earlier. With this firearm she used her thumb and forefinger to pinch the barrel shut.

"D-don't move!" a quavering voice commanded. The girl turned to see one of the thugs had remained behind to point a pistol at her. "You… you must be an android! It's the only way you could be so strong!"

"Correct," said the girl.

"W-well d-don't try anything!" he stuttered. "Androids can't harm humans!"

"What makes you believe that?" Dorothy asked him. "I am faster and stronger than you, and it requires no skill to harm a mere human. If you intend to shoot me, I would suggest a gun with a higher caliber. There is no way that gun could stop me before you came to harm."

"I… I'm getting out of here!" the sweating crook decided.

"I won't stop you," the android girl assured him. "I have a list of errands to do and preventing your escape is not one of them."

It was surreal. The girl was such a little thing it looked like he could snap her neck easily. In reality, she could break _his_ neck without trying. Deciding that discretion was the better part of valor, the thug ran outside to join his fellows.

Turning to the grocer, Dorothy placed her hands before her and bowed. "Please accept my apologies for my remarks about humans," she said as if she was reading the words from a card. "I assure you, they were intended only to intimidate and I meant no insult."

"N-no!" the grocer stammered. "Think nothing of it, Miss Wayneright! You saved us all!"

R Dorothy Wayneright glanced around the store. The damage was done. The grocer and all of his customers were afraid of her. The fact that she had driven the looters away would be forgotten and all they would remember was an android stating how easy it is to harm a human. She retrieved her groceries and walked up to the counter that had formerly possessed a long line. "I will pay for my purchases now," she said quietly.

As Dorothy walked down the gritty and damaged streets of Paradigm she reflected on the fact many did not realize she was an android. Most androids looked no more human than a crash test dummy. She was the most lifelike android in existence that she knew of. Now the patrons at the neighborhood grocery store would gossip that what appeared to be a girl was in fact no more than a machine that mimicked humanity right down to the dainty gait when she walked.

Although Dorothy had never made any effort to hide her mechanical nature, she had no desire for the fact that she was an android to be revealed in such a threatening way. It would be more acceptable for strangers to mistake her for a human girl.

As she turned into an alley to take a shortcut, a greasy man with stringy hair seized her. "Come to poppa, sweet thing!" he said with a predatory smirk. "I've been watching you a long time, toots. Finally that cute little ass of yours will be mine!"

Dorothy frowned. Apparently, there were times it was advantageous for strangers to be aware that she was strong enough to rip doors out of their hinges.

Norman opened the door to the street outside. "Miss Dorothy? Are you all right?"

"I am fine, Norman," the android girl replied as she entered the mansion. Her black dress was ripped at the hem of her skirt and her hair was askew. She had a run in her stockings and one of her cuffs was missing its buttons. "There is a mugger a few blocks away who needs medical attention. At least I managed to get the groceries home intact."

"Well, the important thing is that you're home safe and sound," the butler sighed attempting to downplay the android's disheveled appearance. "After you have a chance to freshen up, Master Roger has a task for you."

Later, Dorothy had changed into a reddish black dress that had a white ruffled collar and formal white cuffs. A fresh set of black stockings and shiny black shoes completed her ensemble. Her red pageboy cut hair was again immaculate, her bangs broken by a black band. She entered the parlor, where she found Roger Smith admiring his collection of hourglasses and drinking a cup of tea.

"Roger," her voice as always sounded vaguely melancholy, "There was a robbery at the grocery store and an attempted mugging on the way home."

"Good heavens, Dorothy," the negotiator responded without emotion, "that's awful."

"It certainly is," the android agreed. "This neighborhood used to be very safe. I have never been assaulted on the street in broad daylight this close to home before. All of our neighbors must be in considerable risk."

"Neighbors?" Roger frowned. Dorothy had a point. The elderly mechanics who assisted Norman when he needed Big O repaired in a hurry lived in the area with their families. Together they formed a 'neighborhood watch' that had kept this particular illegal residence zone relatively free of crime unlike some others. Now with civilization crumbling around them it seemed that even this island of sanity was in danger.

"You don't even know our neighbors, do you Roger Smith?" the android said with emotionless disdain. "It seems odd. You make your living off your social skills, yet you choose to live the life of a hermit. You even keep Colonel Dastun, your best friend, at arm's length."

"What are you getting at?" asked the irritated negotiator.

"Just that it is strange for you to isolate yourself," the android stated. "Most people suffer isolation involuntarily yet you choose it freely, despite being gifted with charm, money, looks, and confidence."

"Now you're making me blush," Roger smiled sardonically.

"Is the reason for your voluntarily solitude related to your preference for black, Roger Smith?"

Roger's confidence seemed to vanish. "Uh…"

"Did someone close to you die?" the girl continued with childish audacity. "What was her name? Were you in love?"

"Where are you getting these ridiculous insinuations?" the negotiator snapped testily. "Why should I answer any of these questions about my past? You never hear me ask you about your past do you?"

"Perhaps you should, Roger Smith," the android replied coldly.

"I've had enough of this," Roger grumbled. "I've got a job for you that's perfect for that thick head of yours. I'm expecting a call from the Paradigm Corporation. I want you to invite the board members of the Paradigm Corporation over here between the hours of twelve and four. Tell them on no circumstances can I leave the house on business. Do you understand?"

"Invite them over here?" The android acted as if she had not heard him correctly. "In the past you have always gone to visit _them_. They are the rulers of the city after all…"

"Not for very much longer if things keep up," Roger smirked.

"Given the volatile atmosphere in the streets, it is unlikely that they would be willing to leave their dome at this time," Dorothy continued.

"Oh I'm supposed to risk my life by coming when _they_ call?" Roger sneered. "No thanks! Not anymore! If they want my services so badly they can get them on my terms not theirs!"

"Roger, you're being childish…" the android scolded.

"I haven't been a child for a long time," Roger leaned back in his chair. "I'm due to be childish for a little while."

Dorothy was silent. It was obvious that she did not understand what he was getting at and that he was deliberately keeping her ignorant. "Very well," she said finally. "I shall answer the phone and relay your instructions."

Later that day, the phone rang.

"Roger Smith's residence," Dorothy said when she answered it. "Dorothy Wayneright speaking."

"Miss Wayneright?" an overly chipper voice asked her. "Veronica Oldcastle, Paradigm Public Relations. Mister Erskine of the board of directors would like to meet with Mr. Smith. When can he come in?"

"Roger Smith is not able to leave the house right now, but will invite Mr. Erskine and the other members of the board to meet at his house at two o'clock," Dorothy stated calmly.

"Perhaps you don't understand," Ms. Oldcastle's voice sounded a little snippier. "This is the Francis Erskine, Vice President of the Paradigm Corporation I'm talking about."

"I understand," Dorothy responded with unflappable calm, "but Mr. Smith is very busy and is unable to leave the house at this time. If two o'clock is too early, may I suggest three?"

"May I inquire what business is more important than a meeting with Mr. Erskine?" Ms. Oldcastle's already shrill voice sounded a little shriller.

"Certainly," Dorothy replied. "Mr. Smith sleeps late until twelve. He has breakfast at that hour. After that he brushes his teeth and washes. He then sits at his desk and meditates with his hourglasses. I believe that he is planning to construct a new one to replace the ones that were destroyed during the attack on our house three weeks back. He then intends to survey the house to see if any new repairs are needed. He will probably brood until five or six, and then will go out on the terrace to watch the sunset with me. After that he will probably dine."

"This is ridiculous," Ms. Oldcastle's snippy voice was quite shrill now. "This is Francis Erskine we are talking about. With Alex Rosewater on sabbatical, Mr. Erskine is in charge of the Company."

"I see," Dorothy said with quiet calm. So the official story was that Rosewater was on 'sabbatical'. "Please extend my congratulations to Mr. Erskine. If three is too late, would he be able to make it at one?"

"Please hold," was Oldcastle's cold reply.

Dorothy stood as silent as a sentinel for over a half hour. Finally Veronica Oldcastle's high-pitched voice came back on. "Mr. Erskine and the board members can be there at five."

"I'm afraid that is impossible," Dorothy replied stoically. "Mr. Smith dines every night at six and it is likely that the meeting will take more than an hour. Could you arrange for them to arrive earlier?"

"This is preposterous!" Oldcastle squawked. "Mr. Erskine is a very important man!"

"So is Mr. Smith," Dorothy retorted without a shred of malice. "I regret that the conditions are preposterous, but that is irrelevant. Mr. Erskine and the members of the board wish to procure the services of my employer. If his services are truly important, they will need to see him before four o'clock."

"Please hold," came Oldcastle's exasperated order.

It was another half hour before the woman returned on the line. "Mr. Erskine and the board members will be at the Smith residence at three."

"Very good," Dorothy nodded. "Unfortunately the garage is in a state right now, so the board members will have to park on the curb. I trust that the appropriate security measures will be in place. Good day," with that the girlish android hung up the telephone.

She strode into Roger's office to find him measuring fine white sand for an hourglass. He and Norman had been checking the mansion's supplies and security measures that day, and he needed to relax. "Roger," she called softly in her melancholy voice. "Mr. Erskine and the members of the board will be arriving at three."

"Good," he nodded with a small smile. "I overheard part of your conversation, Dorothy. You handled yourself like a pro."

"Thank you Roger," the android acknowledged as she walked daintily to his desk. "I must confess that I do not understand the reason for insisting that the board members of Paradigm come here to your office. With the public unrest the way it is you are asking them to put their lives in danger."

"It's all part of the bargaining process," the negotiator assured her. "If I came to them, they would be in control. By forcing them to come to me, I'm letting them know that their power isn't absolute anymore."

"Is that wise?" Dorothy asked. "They may decide that you are a danger and send someone to eliminate you."

"They won't do that as long as they need me," Roger smirked coolly, "and I intend to make sure that I always remain needed."

"I'm sure you know best," the dainty android replied, but it was difficult to determine whether she uttered those words in sincerity or sarcasm.

* * *

On a desk filled with hourglasses a phone rings. Norman's hand picks up the receiver and a sinister voice says:

_Next: Members of the Board_


	3. Members of the Board

_The Big O__ and all of its settings and characters are owned by Cartoon Network, Sunrise, and Bandai Visual._

THE BIG O:

ACT 28

SCAPEGOAT

_Chapter Three: Members of the Board_

At around two o'clock, a number of vehicles arrived and men in dark suits got out. Dorothy watched them from the roof of the mansion and noted that they were dressed much like Roger Smith. Dark blazer, black slacks, black shoes, black tie, and black sunglasses. They spoke into radios and used binoculars as they surveyed the area.

She wanted to ask Roger what they were doing but he was rehearsing his speech. He was pacing the office, going over his monologue, saying it in various different ways in order to give his prose a rhythm that would have the proper psychological effect he desired. He gestured, affected facial expressions, and practiced different kinds of body language.

R Dorothy Wayneright knew better than to interrupt him and studied the men's activities. Finally she decided that the men in dark blazers were a security detail that was sent ahead to make sure that no snipers, ambushes or angry mobs greeted their charges.

Finally, at two fifty more dark sedans arrived. Even the board members of the Paradigm Corporation wouldn't dare to leave their dome in limousines with the civil unrest running unchecked throughout the city. They were despised by the rich and poor alike for supporting Alex Rosewater's bid for his 'New Order' and the people of Paradigm City were itching for a chance to get back at them.

Dorothy watched the men arrive. Norman showed them into Roger's office and they sat in chairs and the sofa. Dorothy watched from the piano bench.

R Instro had donated the piano to his favorite pupil after the previous one had been destroyed. It was the white grand piano that the tuxedoed android's creator had owned when an experiment in a sonic weapon blew off one wall of his house. The piano was exposed to the elements for over half a year before the android pianist had recovered it and set about restoring it.

Now it was painted black and adorning Roger's office, several stories beneath the parlor where Dorothy's previous piano had rested. When Dorothy had asked why the new piano wasn't where the old one was Roger made excuses about getting the android one that was in better condition, but the robotic girl suspected that the negotiator just didn't want a musical instrument so close to his bedroom.

A large chair and desk had been placed in the room. It was his intention to appear busy and to make a 'big entrance', all part of a psychological ploy to establish control. A single hourglass was on the desk, sand hissing through to the bottom. Across from it, a black telephone rested, its cord snaking away to the wall.

The Paradigm board members irritably sat and did not appear to like each other. They waited as far away from each other as civility would allow.

Seated in the love seat was a pale woman with strange black eyes, like an insect. She was probably in her late forties or early fifties. It was hard to tell, since her hair was dyed an exquisite shade of blonde.

A burly black man with a neatly trimmed beard and tinted glasses appeared to be in his late forties. He dominated a large plush chair that had been moved closer to the desk for this meeting.

A man with silvery white hair frowned in hostility seemed to have scar tissue under each eye. He dominated the couch, and was not adverse making it plain with his body language that there was no room for anyone else. He was white. His hair was white, his skin was pale, his suit was an off white egg color. It made his red tie really stand out.

The youngest was a balding man in his thirties who was actually attractive in a hostile, militant way and stood out from other board members by not appearing used up or unhealthy. Like Roger, his hair was jet black, and like Roger, he did not like to be kept waiting. "Take a picture, it will last longer," he snorted in response to the android's unblinking gaze.

Roger entered at five after three. "Gentlemen," he greeted as he strode into the room to take his place at his desk. "And lady," he nodded at the woman. "Thank you for coming by at such short notice. What can I do for you today?"

"Don't get so cocky, Smith," the younger man growled. "Why the hell couldn't you meet us at our headquarters? Why did you have to drag us all the way out here in the first place?"

"If my guests can't be civil, I ask them to leave," Roger retorted as if scolding a schoolboy.

"Leave it, Carl," the man in the white suit muttered. "It's not important."

"Thank you, Mr. Erskine," Roger nodded. "Dorothy, I'd like to introduce you to the senior members of the board. Francis Erskine, Gregory Stoker, Violet Web, and Carl Heller."

The coffee colored Gregory Stoker took the lead. "Mr. Smith, we have come to procure your services."

"Excellent," Roger replied. "Again, what can I do for you?"

"The situation on the streets is getting desperate," the colorless Erskine explained. "The social order is collapsing."

"For some reason, the people out there blame Paradigm for recent crisis," Heller continued.

"We need you to speak to the masses," Violet Web stared with her obviously artificial eyes in Roger's direction. Apparently Alan Gabriel wasn't the only cyborg in the city. "You have to get them to see reason."

"Reason?" Roger asked with exaggerated innocence.

"Yes, dammit," Erskine snapped. "They're tearing apart the city! Construction crews can't go out there and repair the damage. Its not safe."

"The agricultural domes require continuous vigilance from poachers," Stoker added. "If the rioters raid all of the food sources the entire city will starve."

"This could be the end of civilization as we know it!" Web squawked. "If they take down Paradigm the human race will have nothing left!"

"Dear me," Roger steepled his fingers and looked thoughtful. "It seems that Paradigm City is in real trouble."

"That's an understatement," Heller grumbled.

"What makes you think that the people will listen to me?" Roger asked. "With my expensive suit and fancy car they are just as likely to string me up instead of listen."

"You are supposed to be the best," Heller snapped.

"We've done some checking on you," Stoker added in a dangerously calm tone. "You were born outside the domes and lived in an orphanage until your wealthy foster parents took you in. Even now, with your success as Paradigm City's best negotiator, you still refuse to purchase a house inside the domes, preferring to live in an illegal residence district. The people know that deep in your heart, you're still one of them."

"So I'm 'one of them'," Roger smirked in predatory triumph. "You think that I can get in their heads and know how they think is that it? All of your corporate suits can't help you with the unwashed masses, but a negotiator who was born on the wrong side of the tracks could, huh?"

Stoker shrugged and smiled in exaggerated surrender. "That is just one of the things that makes you the best," he flattered.

Roger put his hands on his chin and pretended to think. "Hm, if I'm the best, then I can practically name my fee. Okay, I can get you out of this mess, but first you're going to have to do a few things for me, got it?"

"Name it," Erskine commanded.

"Get on the phone and get Colonel Dan Dastun out of jail," Roger ordered, "and while you're at it, get he and his men reinstated. What were the names of their companies, again? 'Bradbury' and 'Roddenberry'?"

"Excuse me?" Erskine's silver eyebrow rose in disbelief.

"Almost a week ago Dan Dastun asked me to negotiate with you to save his men's careers," Roger explained. "I haven't seen him since. I can only assume that you had him arrested for failing to support Rosewater's 'New Order'."

"He was relieved of his command for disobeying the direct orders of the marshal of the military police," Web protested without blinking her artificial eyes, "and he was arrested for encouraging two companies of police into following him while he fired military ordinance without authorization."

"No," Roger shook his head. "You had him arrested because he was a danger to you. He was capable of getting trained soldiers to follow him without even trying. He didn't ask any of them to follow him in his futile attack on the white megadeus. They did that on their own. Anybody who can command that kind of loyalty and is capable of thinking on his own is too dangerous to go free. I hope for your sakes you haven't assassinated him, because he's the only way you are going to get out of this mess."

"What are you talking about?" Stoker demanded.

"You'll see," Roger smiled. "The only way you can get out this with your skins intact is to make him a hero. I'll explain, but first I want to discuss the rest of my fee."

"Isn't that enough?" Web frowned.

"It's not even close," Roger smirked. "Your city is crumbling down around your ears. If you want me to save it before the bunch of you are put against the wall and shot you better do as I say before it's too late."

"Who the hell does this guy think he is?" Heller gasped in indignant disbelief.

"I think that I'm Paradigm City's best negotiator," Roger explained. "I think a great many other things too. Mr. Stoker, you said that I knew where the unwashed masses where coming from. Shall I explain how the situation looks like to those on the street?"

"At this point there doesn't seem to be a way to stop you," Stoker said dryly.

"Then I'll simplify it for you," Roger nodded. "Colonel Dastun didn't commit treason. Alex Rosewater did. Don't try to deny it. Everybody in Paradigm knows. There is really no way to hide it."

The board members squirmed in their seats and shifted uncomfortably. Some of them tried to blush, but their pasty and unhealthy complexions really wouldn't permit it. Even Stoker's coffee colored skin was too gray and unhealthy to flush properly. Only Carl Heller succeeded in turning beet red.

"Now wait just a minute," the youngest board member protested.

Roger cut him off. "Mr. Heller, not only was Alex Rosewater stupid enough to attack the city that he ruled, but he was dumb enough to project his image as the god of the 'New Order' all over the city while he was doing it. Everybody knows who was in the white megadeus. You don't need a negotiator you need a spin-doctor. Someone who can reorder the facts so that all of you don't get lynched. Now, about the rest of my fee…"

"How much is this going to cost us?" Erskine interrupted.

"Not more than you stand to lose if you don't follow my instructions, that's for sure," Roger said smugly. "In order to save the dying patient that is the Paradigm Corporation, you are all going to have to take some pretty nasty medicine. Are you willing to cut your losses or are you going to lose it all?"

"Name your price," Erskine grumbled.

"Okay," Roger shrugged. "Timothy Wayneright's mansion was cleaned out. All notes on his research were taken. I'm willing to bet that they're in Paradigm's vaults right now."

"Even if that was true, we couldn't possibly part with such information," Erskine countered. "We have reason to believe that Doctor Wayneright was involved in megadeus engineering. Enough giant robots have attacked this city already. It would be irresponsible to…"

"Mr. Erskine, with respect, actions of the white megadeus has sunk any pretensions the Paradigm Corporation has for responsibility," Roger's voice sounded bored, almost tired. "Besides, I'm not interested in that. I want all of his notes on android research."

"Why?" Heller asked. "Going to build yourself a robot assistant?"

"There's no need," Roger shook his head and nodded at the silent girl at the piano. "R Dorothy Wayneright is my assistant. However, I would like a copy of her blueprints to ease in repairs and maintenance for her."

Four pairs of eyes turned to scrutinize the pale girl at the piano.

"As Wayneright's only heir, technically his notes are her legal property anyway," Roger added. "She has the right to know how to take care of herself. And anyway, I think the Paradigm Corporation owes her. Heck, you guys owe the entire city."

"What do you mean?" Stoker asked in indignation.

"Gentlemen, don't play dumb," Roger's eyes became predatory. "Everybody knows or can figure out where all of their problems come from. Paradigm has turned on them. You've betrayed the entire city."

All of the board members protested then. Roger let them go on for a moment before putting his hand up. "That's what everyone believes," he smiled with false warmth. "Now we have to convince the people otherwise."

One by one, the angry board members returned to their seats.

"If you think that was bad let me go on," Roger smirked. "There are rumors that Alex Rosewater worked with members of the subversive group calling themselves the Union to assassinate the senators and founders of the city. That allowed Alex to replace all of his father's men with his own supporters. Now just put yourself in Alex's shoes for a moment. He was a narrow minded, power hungry megalomaniac. There was only room for one leader, one god in Alex's selfish little world."

Roger paused and put his hand to his chin in an exaggerated act of deep thought. "Now what kind of people would he choose to help him run his kingdom? Assertive leadership types who could show initiative and take charge during a crisis? I doubt it. Those would be the last type of people he would want in his organization. The only voice that should be heard should be Alex's. No, I think he would choose a bunch of spineless yes-men to run things for him. That way he wouldn't have to worry about any of them getting ambitions or scruples that would get in the way."

"Now wait a moment…" Erskine protested.

"Yes," Roger nodded as if he hadn't heard him. "I think that's exactly the kind of people he'd fill his board with. Alex was an autocrat, in his mind only one person needed to be a leader. I'll bet with him out, no one has the guts needed to take the reins and make a decision. I'll bet that's exactly the problem. Anyone who displays leadership is a danger, and could lead a rebellion against you."

"Now who do you think you are?" Violet Web sputtered.

"I'm just explaining the way things look like to the man in the street," Roger apologized falsely. "It's just the way things look from his narrow ignorant little view."

Neither Violet Web, nor the other members of the board seemed convinced.

"Now, let's just say for a moment, that I got in front of a podium and explained things to the masses," Roger proposed. "What if I wasn't strung up by the neck or tarred and feathered? What if _somehow_ I actually succeeded? What would that mean?"

The negotiator got no reply but icy glares.

"It would be proof I was a good enough leader to pose a danger to you," Roger continued. "It would be proof that I had the ability to lead a revolt and attempt to depose of the paranoid spineless executives that Alex Rosewater left in minding the store."

* * *

On a desk filled with hourglasses a phone rings. Norman's hand picks up the receiver and a sinister voice says:

_Next: An Offer You Can't Refuse_


	4. An Offer You Can't Refuse

_The Big O__ and all of its settings and characters are owned by Cartoon Network, Sunrise, and Bandai Visual._

THE BIG O:

ACT 28

SCAPEGOAT

_Chapter Four: __An Offer You Can't Refuse_

It was Carl Heller who found his voice first. "Is that a threat?"

"Not at all," Roger shrugged. "I simply want to impress upon you the reasons why I would be hesitant to take on the job of negotiating with the unwashed masses. If I succeeded, my guess is that the group of you would feel obligated to dispose of me. Ending my life shouldn't be too hard if you really put some effort into it," Roger paused, a serious expression on his face. "So if I took the job, there would be two probable outcomes. If I failed, I would be killed by the mob. If I succeeded, I would be assassinated. Neither proposition appeals to me."

"If you had already made up your mind, why did you invite us here, Roger Smith?" Despite the hostile expression on his face, Gregory Stoker managed to make his voice sound bored.

"I just wanted to find out how badly you wanted my services," Roger grinned cheekily. "The fact that you came over here at my invitation rather than insist that I be summoned to your headquarters proves that you are both desperate for my services and powerless to force them from me. I suspect that for the first time in decades, the Paradigm Corporation no longer has absolute control over the city."

If looks could kill, Roger Smith would have died on the spot.

Roger put his hands behind his head and leaned back in his chair. "Fortunately, I have a solution, a solution so obvious that I'm surprised that none of you could see it. Certainly none of you will admit to it. It isn't your first choice, but I think you'll agree that it's the only choice you've got."

"So what is it?" Carl Heller asked.

"Ah," Roger smiled and made a small halting gesture. "Time equals money. I may not be able to accept a negotiating job, but I would be willing to act as a consultant."

"Let me get this straight," Francis Erskine interjected. "You want us to reinstate an officer who abused his position and part with classified technology, and all you can give us is advice."

Roger shook his head. "Mr. Erskine, I'm afraid you are wrong on nearly all counts," he grinned smugly. "In the first place, it is you, and not me who wants Colonel Dastun reinstated. He really is your last hope. In the second place, quite a few androids have been built over the years, and in any case the late Timothy Wayneright's technology never belonged to you. In the third place, I offer not useless advice, but a solution that will save your neck and the Paradigm Corporation's existence."

Violet Web was the first one to attempt to bargain. "So we reinstate Dastun and release Doctor Wayneright's android research, and in return you tell us how to save the Paradigm Corporation…"

"Oh, I'm sorry," Roger apologized. "I'm not done. Colonel Dastun's reinstatement isn't part of my fee." He opened a drawer and took out a sheet of paper. "Dorothy, would you hand this to our guests please?"

The android girl rose from the piano bench and strode over to take the paper from the negotiator's hand and take it to Francis Erskine. She then walked back to the desk to stand at Roger's side.

"What the hell is this?" Erskine asked as he read the document.

"My consulting fee, and a bill for damages," Roger explained. "Three weeks ago a bunch of robots attacked my house. Repairs don't come cheap, and in addition, I want another piano for my assistant here," he nodded at Dorothy. "That piano is a replacement, and between you and me, it needs tuning."

"This is preposterous!" Erskine protested. "With this amount of money you could build your own megadeus!"

Or repair one, Roger thought to himself. Big O had gotten quite a workout battling Big Fau. Out loud, he said, "My assistant received injuries as well. That's why I want a set of her blueprints. I have reason to believe that the attacks on my house and my assistant came from your company. Heck, the attack on the city certainly did."

"What kind of negotiator are you?" Heller asked. "Are you going to negotiate for us, or what?"

"Maybe you don't understand, Mr. Heller," Roger spoke evenly. "I'm consulting for you, but I'm not negotiating for you."

"And just who _are_ you negotiating for, Mr. Smith?" Stoker asked. "Whoever your client is, it certainly isn't us."

"I should think that was obvious," Roger smiled as disarmingly as he could. "I'm negotiating for myself."

"What?"

Roger's voice assumed an instructive tone. "Mr. Stoker, you said that deep in my heart I'm still 'one of them'. That means that I feel as betrayed and cheated as the rest of the citizens of Paradigm City. I may not be able to get restitution for the damages you caused the city, but I can be reimbursed for the injuries you've caused _me_."

"I see," the dark skinned man's face became even darker, "so that's the way it is, is it?"

"I'm afraid so," Roger shrugged. "Come up with the money and get me Miss Wayneright's blueprints. Then I'll tell you how to save the Paradigm Corporation. You can use the phone on the desk. If you decide to decline my offer, my only hope is that the _next_ government takes better care of the city."

Glaring at Roger Smith, the silver haired Francis Erskine rose from the couch to pick up the phone and dial the Paradigm Corporation.

Less than an hour later a military armored vehicle pulled up in the street outside the white tower that Roger Smith called his home. Soon the elevator opened to reveal Norman and two men in military police uniforms who had briefcases handcuffed to their wrists.

"Master Roger, your fee has arrived," the butler smiled smugly.

"Excellent Norman," Roger nodded. "Dorothy, you and Norman check out the technical blueprints to make sure they are genuine. In the meantime, I'll conclude negotiations with my guests, here."

Dorothy paused before joining Norman in examining the contents of the briefcase bearing the late Timothy Wayneright's technical schematics of his android daughter. Whatever reservations she had, she was very good at hiding them.

"Okay, Smith," Erskine growled. "You have the down payment for your services. Unless you want to see those blueprints and that money walk right out that door you'll cut to the chase and tell us your 'miraculous plan' for saving the city."

"Mmm?" Roger looked up from the briefcase of money that was opened on his desk. He put the brick of hundred dollar bills he was examining back into the case and smiled disarmingly at the vice-president. "Why yes, you're right. If I don't deliver the goods, you'll even take back the check you're about to write to complete the remainder of my fee."

Erskine and the other board members seemed to age before Roger's eyes, but that didn't stop them from giving the most intimidating scowls that he could remember seeing.

Erskine wrote a check and placed it on his desk. Roger picked it up and made a big show of examining it.

"Cut to the chase, Smith!" Heller growled. "If you don't get to the point, I'm going to shove that check right down your throat!"

Roger noticed that unlike before, none of the other board members were willing to control Heller's outbursts. "Norman?"

"The blueprints seem genuine, sir," the elderly butler assured him. "I can't detect any flaw in them."

"Excellent Norman," Roger sighed as he shut and fastened the briefcase full of money. "Go ahead and put the cases somewhere safe. Then you can start dinner. Dorothy can tend to our guests' needs."

"Very good sir," Norman nodded as he secured the latches on his briefcase and sauntered over to the desk to collect Roger's. "Dinner should be ready in an hour or so," the butler announced as he headed to the door with a briefcase in each hand. "I trust negotiations should be finished by then."

"Negotiations are over," Roger replied while viewing the irate board members with a critical eye. "Consultations have only begun."

"Well?" Violet Web asked without blinking.

Roger rose to his feet and faced the window, his hands clutching the lapels of his jet-black blazer. "Gentlemen and lady, I have already outlined the situation as it stands. To the people on the street, the Paradigm Corporation launched an unprovoked attack on the city. Rich and poor alike have been injured, killed or left homeless. The Military Police were ordered to do nothing and the only officer with the courage to defy those orders and try to protect the city was relieved of his command and arrested. To the citizens of Paradigm City, your corporation has declared war on them."

He turned on his heel to face the board members, all levity gone from his face. No look of smug triumph crossed his youthful features; only the sincerity of a man who desires what is best for his audience.

"In order to convince the people otherwise, you have to assign blame," the negotiator said. "The problem is that there is no one to pin this on. Rosewater took credit for the deed himself. There is no way to convince the people that your chairman isn't responsible." He paused a moment for emphasis and then continued. "The solution is obvious. Hold him responsible. Strip him of his title of chairman and put him on trial, nice and legal."

"We can't possibly do that!" Violet Web exclaimed.

"Because you're all accomplices," Roger nodded. "I understand. But Paradigm has reordered the facts in the past. You can do it again."

"Do you realize what you are accusing us of?" Carl Heller sputtered.

"I'm accusing you of nothing," Roger countered. "Even though Alex Rosewater played his cards close to the chest I doubt his plans went completely undetected by all of you. You were to be part of his 'New Order' after all." The negotiator's voice took a commanding tone. "Well here's a wakeup call: _The New Order is over._ It's never coming back. Your only chance is to throw Rosewater to the wolves and cover your assets.

"I'm sorry lady and gentlemen," The black clad negotiator continued, but his voice did not sound at all apologetic, "The days of Paradigm enjoying the freedom to do what it likes without accountability is over. Rosewater screwed the pooch. Instead of increasing your power he nearly destroyed it. Your best bet if you want to avoid a rebellion is to make it look like he acted on his own and publicly condemn him for his actions."

"I take it that you have a way to miraculously make the populace believe us," Francis Erskine murmured dryly.

"As a matter of fact, I don't," Roger winked, "but you do."

"And?" the silvery vice chairman prodded.

"Why Colonel Dan Dastun of course," Roger sounded surprised at the question, as if the answer was obvious.

Dorothy had to wonder how many times he had to practice to make those words sound so innocent.

Roger put his hands behind his back and made his voice breezy as if he was discussing the weather. "The actions of Colonel Dastun and his men are the only evidence you have that the bunch of you _aren't_ responsible. He and his men should be reinstated as quickly as possible and be commended on his actions. I should say that Colonel Dastun deserves a medal and perhaps a promotion for remaining loyal while the rest of the officers his pay grade supported the treasonous 'New Order'."

"And why did we arrest him?" the coffee colored Gregory Stoker asked with weary amusement.

"The arrest was a cover story," Roger explained. "In reality he was in protective custody while Paradigm investigated who was loyal to the status quo and who sold out to Rosewater's 'New Order'. Even Colonel Dastun had to believe the arrest was genuine. It was the only way to keep him safe."

"Colonel Dastun was your commanding officer when you served in the military police was he not?" Stoker's voice sounded bored, but his eyes narrowed in cunning understanding.

"He was my C.O. during my stint with the military police, yes," Roger acknowledged, refusing to take the bait, "Right up until I quit the force in disgust. My relationship with Colonel Dastun in this matter is purely professional." Roger mentally kicked himself, for he just revealed that he was negotiating for Dastun's career. On the outside, however, he was still the calm picture of confidence and sincerity.

"And this is the only way to avoid a revolution," Stoker didn't seem a hundred per cent convinced.

"The problem with revolutions is that they go in circles," Roger automatically went to one of his memorized platitudes, but successfully disguised it as wit. "If the current government was overthrown, I have no doubt that the next one would be totalitarian, and a lot of people would end up dead. The capitalist society that Gordon Rosewater created has all sorts of things wrong with it, but at least on paper the people are free. Social mobility is possible. People have a right to congregate and speak their minds. If the group of you faced the punishment you probably deserve, the next guys would commit even greater atrocities. It's time for all of us to cut our losses and let go before we lose it all."

"Let go?" Erskine asked skeptically.

"Undo the damage that Alex did," the negotiator explained. "Allow the civil government the freedom to run things. Most of the senators are dead, but new ones can be elected. Let them have the authority to rule and get back in the business of bribing them when things settle down. Give the people a chance to catch their breath and trust the guys in charge again."

Roger relished the next hard truth but the look of regret on his face appeared flawlessly genuine. "This will probably mean that more people than just Alex Rosewater will have take the rap to protect the rest of you. If the people see a few members of Paradigm get tried and convicted it will restore their faith that the current justice system works. If none of you pay for this crime they're going to follow the first charismatic leader that promises something better. I don't know who the next Gordon will be, but I don't trust the guy." Roger strode to the front of his desk and leaned casually against it and crossed his arms. "It's better to implicate Alex and anyone else you can spare. I recommend the marshal of the military police. He supported the 'New Order' and ordered the military police to do nothing. If you're lucky, you can make it look like a military conspiracy and spare as many Paradigm executives as you can."

"That would leave a gaping hole in the chain of command of the military police," Stoker murmured. "Colonel Dastun would be the highest ranking officer left."

"Would he?" Roger appeared genuinely surprised. "I guess Dastun would have to take charge of the military police, at least temporarily. Still, it's good public relations to have a hero like Dastun in such a prominent position, wouldn't you agree?"

"Oh absolutely," Stoker had the tact to disguise his sarcasm as amusement.

"And that's what we gave up all of that money and the blueprints for your robot housemaid for," Heller grunted in disgust. "Your brilliant plan to save the city is to put Rosewater on trial and place your buddy Dastun in charge of the military police."

Roger shrugged. "If it doesn't work I have no doubt that the money you gave me will be useless. Canned goods will be a more acceptable currency. If any of you have a better solution I wish you the best of luck. For the sake of the city I hope that things work out. In the meantime, I can smell my dinner cooking, I'll say goodbye. Dorothy, please see our guests to the door." As Erskine rose from the couch the negotiator shook his hand before turning and leaving the room.

"This way if you please," Dorothy's quiet voice instructed as she gestured to the stairway leaving to the hallway with the elevator.

* * *

On a desk filled with hourglasses a phone rings. Norman's hand picks up the receiver and a sinister voice says:

_Next: Not Without a Fight _


	5. Not Without A Fight

_The Big O__ and all of its settings and characters are owned by Cartoon Network, Sunrise, and Bandai Visual._

THE BIG O:

ACT 28

SCAPEGOAT

_Chapter Five: __Not Without a Fight_

In the center of the city the shattered dome of the Paradigm Corporation stood in ruin. The magnificent building that was both Paradigm's headquarters and Rosewater's palace was split open like an egg. In actuality, many supporters of the 'New Order' perished when Big O's 'final stage' cannon accidentally struck the building during the battle with Big Fau.

Underneath the ruined structure, the damage was more superficial. The underground complex was where the white megadeus called Big Fau was being restored. Scaffolding and workmen surrounded the white giant. Even so with over a third of the megadeus destroyed, it was going to be hard to get massive robot fully operational again.

Inside technicians and physicians continued to study the damage and attempt to pick up the pieces. In the control room, medical doctors had set up scanners and support equipment around the open cockpit that housed Big Fau's control chair.

Alex Rosewater was still sitting on the chair; thin metal cables snaked out of his back to disappear beneath the seat. His eyes were closed, his skin was pale. A tube attached to an intravenous drip was attached to his arm and another slender tube went up his nose.

"Well?" Francis Erskine demanded of the head physician.

"I'm afraid that we haven't figured out how to remove the cables without causing him permanent spinal injury," the doctor replied without removing his surgical mask. "In addition, he doesn't want to be removed from Big Fau. Despite the pain he is in, he acts as though his presence is the only thing keeping the megadeus functioning, and he won't give it up."

"He won't?" Erskine frowned. "But he has to. He won't get well until he gets out of here. Until he's separated from the megadeus he won't recover. We don't need someone possessed by an insane robot, we need our chairman back. Can't you…"

"I'm afraid there is no reasoning with him," apologized the doctor. "He seems most insistent and that's putting it mildly."

"If we can't get through to him," Francis Erskine grumbled. "We may have to enact Roger Smith's insane idea."

Unseen by the two men, Alex Rosewater opened a single bloodshot eye.

"Although with our chairman in this condition, it would be impossible to submit him to a public trial," Erskine continued to complain. "It just isn't going to work. You've got to restore his mind at any rate. The rabble is tearing the city apart and it's only a matter of time before the Paradigm Corporation is overthrown."

The doctor nodded helplessly as Francis Erskine left the control room to exit the megadeus. He didn't notice Alex Rosewater's skull like face twist into a leer. He also didn't hear Rosewater whisper: "So you want to get rid of me, do you negotiator? Not without a fight…"

Back at the renovated bank building that was the home of Roger Smith, the black clad negotiator was pouring himself a drink. He indulged himself by musing on the mysteries of Paradigm City. What happened during his fight with Big Fau? Where the hell was Angel hiding? Was the mysterious blonde bombshell even still alive? If he could speak to her, maybe she could put some of his doubts to rest.

Was he really Roger Smith or was he an actor upon a stage so large that no one could see it? For all he knew the entire populace of Paradigm City could be brains in jars hooked up to a huge virtual reality program or part of a huge experiment…

"Roger?" A soft feminine voice broke him out of his reverie. He turned to see the slender and dainty form of R Dorothy Wayneright. The light reflecting off her alabaster face made her expression beatific and caring, but her words had a scornful quality. "What are you doing? Do you intend to do anything today, or are you just going to drink?"

Roger frowned and cleared his throat noisily.

Dorothy continued with childish audacity. "The city is in turmoil. Aren't you going to do something?"

"And what do you recommend I do?" he snorted, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Use Big O to lead a revolt against the Paradigm Corporation? Install tear gas instead of cluster bombs so Big O can assist the military police with crowd control?"

"At the very least you can assist Norman and I with securing the mansion," Dorothy scolded. "You could supervise modifications so that the mansion could protect our neighbors too."

"Our neighbors?" Roger's eyes widened in surprise, yet his sarcasm didn't leave his voice. "And how long do you expect our supplies to last if we turn the mansion into a refugee camp? Are you…?"

He stopped in mid sentence, surprised and disgusted at his own words. Was he really such an uncaring louse that he was more concerned with his own comfort rather than the plight of his fellow human beings? Here Dorothy was thinking of others, and all he could do is make excuses because the great Roger Smith didn't want to be bothered. What kind of person was he?

He took a deep breath and sighed in defeat. "You're right Dorothy," he murmured softly, "If I don't do something it's just going to get worse before it gets better. I can't hide in my shell forever."

"What are you going to do?" Dorothy prodded. "Are you going to lead a revolt against the Paradigm Corporation?"

"Don't be ridiculous, Dorothy," Roger smirked. "Even if I was successful, if I didn't become a paranoid recluse like Alex Rosewater, I'd be dead in a week."

"Are you not a paranoid recluse now, Roger Smith?" Dorothy retorted.

Roger growled and looked away. He hated to admit it, but that remark hit close to home. It was ridiculous, but it took an android to remind him of the responsibilities of the real world and not become lost wondering whether or not the world was real. He idly wondered if Michael Seebach would have gone insane if he had a mouthy android to keep him grounded.

"I'm not going to dignify that remark with a response," Roger huffed.

"Is that because you do not have one?" Dorothy asked evenly.

Of course, thought Roger. Why else would somebody say that? He felt his cheeks flush in indignation. "No!" he growled. "It's because as you so mercilessly pointed out, I've got better things to do than argue with a foul tempered android!" He downed his drink in one gulp and marched out of the room in a huff. He didn't know where he would find Norman, but the exercise would do him good.

Since Dorothy regained her main memory drive, it seemed that she never ignored an opportunity to get under Roger's skin. Was she making up for lost time? Or was this her way of letting him know that she was back to normal? What if she wasn't back to normal and was overcompensating by being more annoying than usual?

What if there was _nothing_ wrong with her? What if it was all in _Roger's_ head? He had to consider that possibility. As an android she might be able to just snap back to normal after a unthinkable violation to her body and mind while a human would be traumatized for the rest of her life. Roger, on the other hand wasn't sure if the city was real, if his feelings were real, or if he himself was real.

He shook his head as he wandered the stairways, hallways and chambers of the mansion. He didn't call out to Norman because deep down he really didn't care if he found him or not. He only hoped that he could sort out his feelings for Dorothy before she found him again.

What _were_ his feelings for Dorothy, anyway? Did he truly love her? If so, in what way? Was it a brother-sister relationship; was it more of a father-daughter thing? Could it actually be romantic attraction? Was it even possible to have a romantic relationship with a girl who was a robot, and was that what he really wanted anyway? What were Dorothy's feelings towards him? Was he ready for them, and if not, why not?

Suddenly, getting off his posterior and going out on a futile mission to save the city from itself wasn't looking that complicated. All he needed to do was replace the heavy ordinance with tear gas canisters, nets and other less-lethal ammunition. Of course, he'd have to choose his fights to make sure that Big O wouldn't cause more damage than the rioters, but that was… Why was Dorothy talking to him? How did she get downstairs to the office before him? What was she saying?

"Are you listening to me, Roger Smith?" the dainty android asked. She always spoke so calmly that it was difficult to tell when she was upset or irritated. She only called him 'Roger Smith' when she was angry with him, so he had to guess that even an android's patience wasn't infinite.

"Dorothy?" he asked as if he had awoken from a daze. She must have taken the elevator while he had taken the stairs. The negotiator shook his head to clear it as his attitude went from confusion to irritation. "What are you doing? Are you following me or something?"

"I should think that my actions are self-evident," the pale redhead replied. "Did you hear a single word I said?"

"Uh," Roger blinked as his distracted mind tried to translate her retort. It wasn't until after Dorothy's next remark that he realized that she had sidestepped his question by saying nothing.

"I said 'Why did you insist on a copy of my blueprints, Roger Smith?'" the girl continued stubbornly. "Are you planning to construct a replacement for me?"

"Don't be ridiculous," he snorted. "One of you is quite enough."

"Then why was a copy of my blueprints part of your payment for consulting for the Paradigm Corporation?" she retorted.

He wished that he hadn't left the parlor upstairs. He could use another drink. Facing this unrelenting machine sober would be a test of endurance. He inhaled deeply and steeled himself for the inevitable.

"Those blueprints are the baseline for your medical record," Roger explained, attempting to switch from confrontational to reasonable. "If anything happens to you, Norman and I need to know how to put you back together. You understand that, don't you?"

"Since when do you need such exact and detailed information on my bodily functions, Roger Smith?" the android asked mercilessly. "Norman has always been able to repair my damages in the past."

"Since three weeks ago, when Beck removed your main memory and installed it in Big Fau," Roger snapped. In less than a second, reasonable went right back to confrontational. "If you remember, even when we regained possession of your memory drive we still needed Beck's help to reinstall it into that thick head of yours. What's the big deal anyway? You don't have anything to hide do you?"

There was slight hesitation, and then the android responded, "If I _had_ anything to hide, I would not reveal it to _you_, Roger Smith." Dorothy turned on her heel and left the room without another word.

Roger's mouth was still open. He had been expecting the heated discussion to continue. "What? What did I say?" He sighed as he walked over to his desk and turned over an hourglass. Once again, Dorothy had gone out her way to prove that she a real woman and not merely a machine that mimicked one. Somehow he had won the argument, but only a real woman could make him feel like he lost.

He sat down at his desk to think. Dorothy was real. There was almost no doubt about that anymore. He laughed bitterly. He didn't even know if the world was real. He didn't even know if _he_ was real, and yet here was a product of man's creation that appeared as real and caring as anyone else he had ever met, but was Dorothy capable of such emotions?

Roger pulled his journal out of his desk, and idly flipped through it. From the beginning she could form subjective opinions. She seemed genuinely happy singing for her father at the Nightingale. She displayed actual fear when encountering the unfinished megadeus he had labeled 'the Archetype' that Schwarzwald had uncovered beneath Paradigm City. Her affection for the kitten she had named 'Pero' was undeniable.

She insisted on playing the piano to get him up if he slept in too late. What pleasure did she derive from that? Was it a malicious streak in her personality or was it just because she wanted to see him?

Three times she had stated that she loved him. The first time was when she was under Beck's control and trying to crush his rib cage. She said that she loved him just before she shorted out Beck's remote control tiara and flipped her circuit breakers to save his life. The second time was when the blonde criminal had kidnapped Roger for a change. Dorothy said that she had come to rescue her employer, the man that she loved. The third time was when Beck had swapped Dorothy's memory drive with that of Red Destiny, the android's homicidal duplicate.

Three times had said that she loved him, and that didn't include the gift that she had bought him last Heaven's Day. One time she said that she was joking, but only after she saw Roger's negative reaction. The other two times she literally was not herself. The first time could have been Beck's sick joke, but what about the most recent time?

What if she had said that she loved him as an affirmation to draw the strength necessary to resist the orders to kill? That would certainly explain the last time, and the first time too.

Dorothy was always asking questions about love. She once said that she didn't understand fear, right before she experienced it. Did that mean that she could experience love without understanding it? Was she really that human? Did she feel love more deeply than Roger himself could?

Roger put his journal back in the desk. He hadn't really been reading it anyway. He left the room, lost in thought, and went to tell Norman to equip Big O for riot control.

That was why he didn't see Dorothy enter the office after he left. He wasn't there when she moved a painting on the wall aside to reveal a hidden wall safe. He didn't know that her slender, dexterous fingers were turning the dial of the combination lock too fast for the naked eye to follow. He certainly didn't know she could open the safe and remove a heavy envelope filled with android schematics.

* * *

On a desk filled with hourglasses a phone rings. Norman's hand picks up the receiver and a sinister voice says:

_Next: Unleashed _


	6. Unleashed

_The Big O__ and all of its settings and characters are owned by Cartoon Network, Sunrise, and Bandai Visual._

THE BIG O:

ACT 28

SCAPEGOAT

_Chapter Six: __Unleashed_

Riker's Island was the site of Paradigm City's prison. It was believed to have been named after a man named William Riker, but of course nobody knew who he was anymore. Some spotty records indicated that Will Riker was an astronaut or a naval commander. Other accounts said that he was a Dutch Settler from long ago. In the end, it really didn't matter.

It certainly didn't matter to Dan Dastun, former Colonel of the military police. Life could be hard for a cop on the inside. Convicts were generally hostile to police, especially those who were too honest or too stupid to take bribes. For a man as proud of the military police as Dastun to be in prison was a death sentence. Even if Paradigm didn't get one of the prisoners to kill him, an inmate with nothing to lose might try to off him. Even Dastun had to admit it was a slick setup. Death by convict meant that he could be eliminated without a paper trail.

So Dastun took the initiative. He picked a fight with someone he knew he could take. He didn't say anything; he just started swinging. When the warden asked him why he did that, Dan just shrugged and said he mistook him for someone else. In the end he got what he wanted, solitary confinement. Solitary confinement made it nearly impossible for Dastun to die 'accidentally'. If the suits at Paradigm wanted him out of the way, they would have hold a trial or kill him in an obvious murder.

The doors to Dastun's cell opened to allow a stocky bearded man with coffee colored skin admittance. His expensive business suit, smoky eyeglasses, carefully groomed hair and immaculately cut nails marked him as a man of wealth and power.

"What do you want?" Dastun grumbled.

"Do you know who I am?" the man rumbled in his deep voice.

"You're Gregory Stoker, a member of Paradigm's Board of Directors," Dastun shrugged, doing his best to look bored.

"Do you know what I can do for you?" Stoker asked him.

"I know what you can do _to_ me," Dastun crossed his arms.

"I can offer you your life back, but only if you obey my orders to the letter," Stoker gazed at Dastun with cold eyes.

"What do I have to do?" the ex-cop asked in resignation.

Inside the former bank building known simply as 'the mansion', Roger Smith sat in the cockpit of Big O, the only place in the mansion he could be assured of getting away from that pesky android. Big O was loaded with less lethal ammunition for riot control. Dare he use the megadeus to stop the riots and looting out there? Would it do any good or would it simply fan the flames? What was he afraid of?

Roger sighed, for he knew what he was afraid of. His worst hallucinations happened when he was sitting right in this chair, when he was battling Big Fau or the three foreign megadeuses containing Big Fau's parts. If Roger went out in Big O before his head was on straight he could have another bizarre fantasy, one that he might not come back from. Dare he risk it until he figured himself out?

His mind drifted back to what Beck had told him when he had forced him to restore Dorothy's memory. "It's pretty obvious that the domineus and the megadeus gotta be in sync," the blonde crook told him. "Otherwise, bad things happen."

What had Swartzwald's ghost told Alan Gabriel before the Big Duo Inferno rejected the psychotic cyborg? "It chooses one who controls the power of God created by Man, one who is able to arrive at one truth. That's not the case with you!"

Was it safe for Roger to pilot the Big O when he wasn't sure of himself, when he was unable to arrive at one truth? Would he lose control Big O? Would the black megadeus turn on him? It didn't seem possible and yet, could he take the chance? At the very least Big O might freeze or go out of control and that wouldn't be any good would it?

He had promised Big O that he would do better, that he would be a better pilot. There was no way he could fulfill that promise while he was plagued with such doubts. He needed to straighten himself out and find out what truth he did believe in. Unfortunately that would mean subjecting himself to that unrelenting android's sharp tongue.

As the black clad negotiator walked down the catwalk away from his silent megadeus, Norman Burg strode up to him.

"Master Roger?" the butler asked, snapping the younger man out of his brooding. "Do you have a moment?"

"Sure Norman," the negotiator sighed. "What can I do for you?"

"Have you moved Miss Dorothy's blueprints, sir?" the elderly man asked gently. "I thought that I would familiarize myself with them before I started dinner."

"What? No, I haven't moved them," Roger shrugged. "Aren't they still in the safe?"

"I'm afraid not, Master Roger," Norman morosely shook his head. "They are not in either safe. I had wondered if you were studying them."

"You weren't going to be tutoring me until Paradigm City returns to some kind of stability," Roger stated. "Her blueprints would be gibberish to me until then. Why would I look at them now?"

"I wouldn't know sir," Norman's good eye looked away. "Curiosity perhaps?"

Roger's face reddened at his butler's subtle implication. "Certainly not! Let's check out the safe!"

In the negotiator's office, Roger and Norman studied the open safe. "The deed is still in there," Norman told him. "As is the emergency cash and Paradigm's check."

"But no blueprints," Roger grumbled.

"Who could have taken them, sir?" Norman wondered. "Mister Beck was out of our hair before we received them. You don't suppose he cased the mansion during his stay?"

"We've had this place sown up tight since the riots started," Roger announced. "There's no way anybody could break in here that easily." His eyes narrowed suspiciously. "No way, unless it was an inside job…"

"Sir?" Norman's voice sounded concerned.

"R Dorothy Wayneright!" Roger shouted. "Get in here!"

"Yes Roger?" the android asked from the doorway.

"Somebody has been rifling through my safe," the negotiator growled. "Your blueprints are gone."

"Who do you suppose could have taken them?" Dorothy asked.

"Who indeed?" asked a suspicious Roger. "Are you going to deny that you took them?"

"There is no need to for me to deny anything, Roger Smith," the girl retorted, "since I am guilty of nothing wrong."

"That doesn't sound like a denial," Roger said as he looked into Dorothy's unflinching eyes. "Is that a confession?"

"There is nothing for me to confess," Dorothy said stubbornly. "If I did take them, it would be none of your business. You said that I am Doctor Wayneright's only heir. By your own words my blueprints are technically my legal property."

"Don't get smart with me, Dorothy…" Roger warned.

"Miss Dorothy!" Norman gasped in fatherly concern. "Does this mean that you _did_ take them? I can't believe it. What could have possessed you to do such a thing?"

The android turned to face the butler, and seemed unsure of herself.

So, Roger thought, she was ready for a fight with me, but Norman playing the guilt card was something she had not anticipated. Good.

"Yes," the negotiator went on the attack. "Why _did_ you take them? We thought we had a burglar."

"I never said that I did," Dorothy replied. Was it his imagination, or did her voice lack confidence? Hard to tell with Dorothy.

"You never said that you didn't either," Roger countered. "Are you going to admit that you took them or are we going to have to assume that we have a security breach?"

Dorothy clasped her hands and looked away.

Roger's voice softened as he tried another tack. "Hey it's okay that you want to take a look at them," he said, allowing her to save face. "After all, you have a right to know how your own body works. I just thought that Norman would tutor us in robotics first, that's all."

Dorothy looked back in his direction, all expression gone from her colorless face.

"Dorothy?" he asked tentatively. "You're right. You've done nothing wrong. I shouldn't have yelled at you like that. You can look at them anytime you want to. So, when you're done with them, be sure to put them back in the safe, alright?" Roger smiled uneasily. "I mean, Norman needs to take a look at them too, you know."

Zilch. Nothing. She didn't even blink.

"By the way, where are they now?" Roger asked innocently.

"Why do you need to see them, Roger Smith?" Dorothy countered.

"I don't," he shrugged. "Just curious."

"Why are you curious?" she countered. "What is it about my body that you find so fascinating?"

"Wha?" Roger sputtered and blushed in embarrassment before he lost his temper. "You won't distract me with these ridiculous insinuations!" he snarled. "Why won't you tell us where it is? Just what are you trying to hide?"

"I never said that I was hiding anything, Roger Smith," she announced stoically. "You didn't answer my question. Could it be that _you_ yourself have something to hide?"

"Quit trying to deflect the question and just answer it already!" Roger ordered. "I went through a lot of trouble to get those plans! If you don't want me to look at them you could at least tell me why!"

"May I watch you undress, Roger?" she asked innocently.

"No!" he barked.

"Why?" she asked. Check and mate.

"Grrr!" Roger's hands went through his jet-black hair. "Norman! I'm going for a walk! See if you can reason with this crazy pile of bolts!" He marched out of the office before he said anything worse.

"Dorothy," Norman said in his most conciliatory tones, "Why don't you want us to study your blueprints? What is it about them that bothers you so?"

The girl just stared at the doorway Roger had exited through.

Meanwhile in an underground hanger underneath the ruined Paradigm Headquarters, a group of surgeons assembled inside of Big Fau's cockpit. They surrounded the comatose Alex Rosewater, who was resting on a special table that had been placed inside. Monitors with X-ray images of the chairman's skeleton and spinal column were set up in the control room.

"Alright," the head surgeon announced. "Making the first incision…"

As soon as the scalpel touched the metallic filaments surrounding his spinal column, Alex Rosewater sprung to life. His bloodshot eyes opened and his hand reached out behind his head to seize the surgeon's arm in an iron grip.

Several of the surgeons cried out. The cried out again when Alex Rosewater rose to his feet and seized the doctor by his neck. Some tried to restrain him, but when they heard the chief surgeon's neck snap, they fled the area by the catwalk that led out of the control room of the ghostly white megadeus. To the horror of the workmen, the operating table and the body of the chief surgeon were thrown out to fall down amongst them.

"How dare you try to separate me from Big Fau," Rosewater snarled as he sat down in the control chair and put his feet into the pedals. "Nobody will take my megadeus from me, do you hear me, no one!"

As a transparent hemisphere enclosed the cockpit from the rest of the control room, the three circular monitors at his feet came to life. The larger central screen displayed scrolling text: CAST IN THE NAME OF GOD-- YE NOT GUILTY. A strange buzzing sound was heard in the cockpit.

"Yes, you're right, Big Fau," Alex frowned. "It's time to get back at that poor excuse for a domineus who put them up to this! It's time to rid my world of Roger Smith!"

Outside in the hanger, the frightened workmen cried out as the scaffolding around the white megadeus fell away. Screams and metallic impacts could be heard as the injured leviathan staggered to its feet and lumbered forward. Alarm klaxons were heard as Big Fau stumbled towards the huge lift that would take it to the surface.

"Sir!" a technician in charge of the elevator controls exclaimed. "The elevator! It's activating all by itself!"

"What?" his supervisor gasped. "That's impossible!"

Inside the white megadeus' cockpit, Alex Rosewater grinned an ironic smile. "Who knew Big Fau?" he mused as the giant robot rose to the surface of the city. "We don't need that android's memory. You have me instead. Together we are complete. This is what you wanted all along isn't it? And deep down, this is what I wanted. Now let's bring this ungrateful city to its knees!" The roof opened above the robot allowing it access to the outside world. "Big Fau!" Rosewater shouted in glee. "It's showtime!"

* * *

On a desk filled with hourglasses a phone rings. Norman's hand picks up the receiver and a sinister voice says:

_Next: Showtime_


	7. Showtime

_The Big O__ and all of its settings and characters are owned by Cartoon Network, Sunrise, and Bandai Visual._

THE BIG O:

ACT 28

SCAPEGOAT

_Chapter Seven: Showtime_

What was the deal with that crazy android? Roger fumed as he leaned on the railing and gazed out at Paradigm City. The city was so peaceful. Well, that wasn't true, was it? There was smoke. Gunshots could be heard in the distance. If he listened intently, he could make out shouting and glass breaking. He sighed from his view on the rooftop patio, his anger melting into depression. All of the times he had risked his life to save the city from destruction and here Paradigm City was destroying itself.

"Roger?" Dorothy's gentle voice called to him.

"Yes, Dorothy?" he turned giving her a rueful smile.

"Are you still angry?" she asked quietly from the doorway.

"No, I guess not," he sighed as he turned around to lean against the concrete railing separating him from open space. "To be honest, I'm more angry with myself than you. I shouldn't have lost my temper like that."

"Roger," Dorothy walked over to him. "Something has been bothering you. It's not just the riots in the city."

"Something has been bothering you too," he countered, "but yeah, something has been bugging me." He turned to gaze over the turbulent city. "This place, Paradigm City, what is it? Is it even real? Am I real?"

"As an android, I question the validity of my own existence often," Dorothy admitted, "but I am surprised to hear those words coming from you."

"Hopefully I'm just losing my mind," Roger bitterly quipped. "The problem is, I can't bring myself to care about anything anymore. I don't know if anything or anybody is real. The things I've seen. What I've experienced. How do I know that any of this is real?"

Dorothy responded by hoping up onto the railing the way she often did. Roger flinched, even though her superior sense of balance made her perfectly safe. Ever since she had almost hurled herself over the side to save Roger when Red Destiny's memory drive was in her head two weeks back he felt nervous when Dorothy stood on the edge like that.

"I understand, Roger," Dorothy announced. "As an android, I don't know if I'm real either. I suppose the only way to find out is to end it all and explore the afterlife. I am going to jump Roger, do you care to join me?"

Once again, Dorothy had succeeded in saying the last thing Roger expected. "What?" the horrified negotiator gasped. "Dorothy, what are you saying?"

"If I am not real, there is no point going on," she said stoically. "If the city is not real, what I do makes no difference, and I will not be missed. If nothing is real, whether I live or die is of no consequence."

"Dorothy!" the negotiator snapped. "Stop it! You're talking crazy!"

"Yes, I am," she said as she turned to face him. "I sound ridiculous don't I? I have to accept what my senses tell me and make extrapolations on what they do not. It is the only way to gather enough data to make a decision."

"Huh?" Roger winced in embarrassment. "Oh I get it. You were putting me on, weren't you? You were never going to jump."

"It would be stupid, wouldn't it?" Dorothy agreed. "It makes no sense to give up just because you face a paradox. There is nothing to be gained by that. The smart thing to do is admit there is something you don't understand and go on. Don't you have a rule for that?"

Roger gave an embarrassed smile and nodded his head. "If you want to live a happy life in this city, leave memories alone when they pop up. That's Roger Smith's Rule Number One."

"Do memories pop up for you, Roger Smith?" the girl asked.

"Yes…" He muttered childishly as he rolled his eyes and looked away.

"Why aren't you leaving them alone, then?" came her inevitable response. "Don't you wish to live a happy life?"

"Of course I do," he mumbled.

"The answer should be self-evident then," Dorothy concluded. She hopped off the railing to stand next to Roger. "Did a different perspective help?"

Roger glanced at the ground and nodded ruefully before lifting his eyes to Dorothy's ivory colored face. "Yes, Dorothy, it helps. You're right, of course. I made those rules for a reason. If I keep second guessing myself, I won't be able to do anything. I suppose thanks are in order."

"I would think so," Dorothy replied.

"On the other hand, I don't appreciate you threatening to kill yourself," he added sternly. "Just for that, you aren't allowed to stand up on the railing until the riots are over."

"Roger you are being childish," the android protested.

"My house, my rules," he retorted as he turned to walk back inside. "If I have to follow my rules, you do too." He stopped at the door and looked behind him. "Besides, who knows if a sniper or a flying vehicle of some kind will show up? I've made up my mind. Until the city calms down, no more standing on the railing. If you got to be up high, there are plenty of pillars to stand on." He disappeared inside the mansion leaving Dorothy outside.

"You are a louse, Roger Smith," she decided. A crash of thunder drowned out anything else and her hair and dress blew forward as an explosion leveled a building a few blocks behind her. Several windows on the mansion broke from the force of the blast.

"Dorothy!" Roger ran right back out. "What happened?" he asked as he grasped her shoulders. "Are you hurt?"

The android didn't answer. She seemed more interested in the negotiator's strong hands on her shoulders than the smoking ruin behind her.

Roger looked over her shoulder and saw the damaged building. He also saw the smoke trail of a rocket soar up into the sky. It came from the ruins of the central dome. The center dome that had held the headquarters of the Paradigm Corporation. The place where just two weeks ago he had fought Alex Rosewater and Big Fau. "Blast it!" he swore as he turned to dash back inside, Dorothy close at his heels. "Alex Rosewater," he snarled.

In the huge hanger inside the hollowed out building, Norman was monitoring police channels on a desk sized device with small circular screens. He glanced down to see his employer run towards the long black sedan parked beside Big O's massive gunmetal feet. "Ah, Master Roger…"

"Norman!" Roger shouted as he entered "Send the prairie dog to the central dome! Big Fau is loose again!"

"Very well sir," Norman replied. "Do you think you will be home for dinner? I'm preparing the last of the chicken."

"This shouldn't take long," Roger said as he and the android entered the long black car he called the Griffin. "I have a feeling that Rosewater and Big Fau aren't in real fighting condition."

"Very good sir," the butler nodded. "Take care."

As Roger drove the Griffin like a racecar driver, Dorothy asked from the passenger side. "Why don't you ride Big O in the prairie dog? The streets are hardly in any condition to allow fast transport."

That's just what I need, Roger thought wryly. Traveling underground in Big O will just guarantee that I'll get hallucinations and experience things that can't possibly exist. That would really be smart. That's what Roger said on the inside. On the outside, he muttered, "Don't distract the driver."

Too late. He was distracted. He was already questioning the wisdom of bringing Dorothy along. During both his total reality shaking hallucinations, both he and Dorothy had been in Big O while battling either Big Fau or three foreign megadeuses that contained parts of Big Fau. By duplicating the conditions he almost ensured that he would hallucinate. Did Big Fau contain some device that caused these visions? Would Dorothy's presence help send him into an imaginary world or was she part of the reason he could find his way out again?

He turned the corner and saw exactly what he didn't want to see. Military police vehicles setting up roadblocks to contain a riot. They weren't very successful either. People were spilling out of the clouds of tear gas to assault the armored men with transparent body shields. It was a mess.

Grunting, the black clad negotiator turned into an alley. A brick wall blocked the end of it. Flicking a switch on the dashboard, Roger activated the Griffin's machine guns and twin streams of bullets cut through the wall like buzzsaws. In a second the negotiator had cut a rectangular outline as a ram flipped up from under the front of the car to protect the bumper and grill. The Griffin's reinforced chassis broke through the weakened wall without slowing. On the other side, the black car soared through the air to land on the highway that had been closed due to roadblocks and martial law.

The Griffin tore through a divider as it careened in a wide drunken turn to make the ninety-degree maneuver necessary to avoid hitting the wall on the other side. Soon Roger and Dorothy were speeding towards the central dome as more rockets flew through the air from their destination.

"I still think that traveling underground with Big O would entail less risk," Dorothy said quietly.

"Didn't ask you," Roger responded off handedly. The Griffin plowed through barriers and signs saying 'BRIDGE OUT' without slowing. A black-gloved finger pressed a button on the dashboard marked 'TURBO BOOST' and the car soared in the air above the gap where a section of the bridge had fallen away during the Big Fau's previous attack on the city.

Dorothy was glad that her artificial neck apparently didn't suffer from whiplash and wondered how Roger would fare the next day.

In the cockpit of Big Fau, Alex Rosewater laughed as he fired missiles into the air. "Come on, Roger Smith! Come and meet your doom! Today will mark the beginning of a new order! This city will have a new god!"

In the Paradigm Corporation's temporary headquarters, Francis Erskine received a phone call from Military Police Headquarters.

"The white megadeus is attacking the city!" the voice on the phone exclaimed. "What do we do?"

"Do what you have to," Erskine ordered.

As the Griffin sped up to the ruined central dome, the shattered form of Big Fau could be seen in the distance. Nearly a third of the white megadeus was missing. How its left leg remained attached to the ruined body was a mystery, for the left side had been blown off the Big Fau in the same blast that had totaled Paradigm Headquarters.

"Humph," the negotiator snorted. "This shouldn't take long." Roger used the straight track of road to steer with one hand. "Big O!" he shouted into his watch, "It's Showtime!"

Was it Roger's imagination, or was Dorothy rolling her eyes?

Transported underneath the ground by the four locomotive vehicle nicknamed, the 'prairie dog', the black megadeus could reach anywhere the ancient subway system could before the event that erased everyone's memories and left Paradigm City alone in the world of amnesia.

Like the dead rising out of their graves on judgment day, the black megadeus tore out of the ground sending concrete and asphalt flying in all directions. The massive robot thundered forward away from the crater its appearance had created and stood in the middle of the highway heading towards the main dome.

"There you are, Roger Smith," spat Alex Rosewater, a sinister grin on his skull like face. "Now we'll see if you've got what it takes to be a domineus."

The long black car drove right between Big O's feet before it braked and then backed up to enter a garage that was at the bottom of the black megadeus' right foot. Soon Roger and Dorothy were in the control room.

Roger sat in the cockpit and put his feet into the pedals. He crossed his arms as two curved arms ending in joysticks closed to encircle his chair. A transparent bubble closed to seal him off from the rest of the circular room leaving Dorothy to stand nearby and peer out the rose-colored semitransparent wall in front of them. At Roger's feet were three circular monitors. The larger center screen displayed a message: "CAST IN THE NAME OF GOD YE NOT GUILTY".

"Big O, action!" Roger exclaimed.

"Why do men say these things?" Dorothy wondered out loud. A bulb flashed on the communications panel. "Roger, Norman is trying to contact us."

"What is it, Norman?" Roger asked as he flicked a switch. "No offense, but I'm a little busy here."

The circular screen on the right activated to display the face of a concerned Norman Burg. "Master Roger! I just realized. Big O is loaded with less lethal ammunition! The missiles and armor piercing shells were left back here!"

"Looks like dinner will be later than I thought," Roger grunted. "Thanks for the heads-up, Norman. In all the excitement, I completely forgot myself."

"What now?" was Dorothy's dour query.

"Now we do this the hard way," Roger replied as he activated the lasers.

In Big Fau's cockpit, Alex Rosewater sneered. "I don't think that you have what it takes to pilot the Big, _Negotiator_. I think that Big Fau can defeat you using only one hand." He hit the button on his joystick and the turbine on Big Fau's remaining forearm sprung to life.

"Roger, Big Fau's hand…" Dorothy warned as the white megadeus' hand and forearm launched to become a deadly projectile.

"I see it, Dorothy!" at the flick of a switch, the anchor on Big O's right hip shot out propelled by miniature turbojets, and trailed a massive chain behind it. When the anchor had secured itself to the ground, Roger reeled in the chain to pull the black megadeus to the side and out of the path of Big Fau's hand. "That was too close," the negotiator breathed.

"What's the matter, Negotiator," Rosewater mocked. "Lost your nerve? I think there are parts in your megadeus that would restore Big Fau, nicely, don't you agree? Think of your Big as an organ donor…"

Two laser projectors extended on flexible periscope-like extendors from the white megadeus' back. Roger responded by using Big O's arm shields to protect his body. "Why the hell am I on the defensive?" Roger grunted. "This is ridiculous!"

"Roger," Alex Rosewater's voice was heard from a speaker. "I can't help wondering… Just who do you think you are? You came from an orphanage before your foster parents adopted you. Did your parents really exist? If you dug up their graves, would you find anything, or would their coffins be empty? Makes you wonder if you're just an actor playing a role, doesn't it?"

"What the hell does that have to do with anything?" Roger roared. "It makes no difference whether I had parents or…" Wait? Why was Alex asking him those questions? How did he know about his insecurities? What did Gordon Rosewater do to Roger, and how much did Alex know?

"You have something that belongs to me, Negotiator," Alex continued. "If you surrender it to me, I'll let you go back to the tomato farm without a fight. Or do you prefer to go back as catsup?"

Something that belongs to him? What could that be? He glanced to his left and saw Dorothy looking out the semitransparent barrier at Big Fau. Her young, normally lineless face was contorted in terror. Dorothy was afraid! Why? The answer came to him instantly. The last time she reacted like that was when Big O's archetype threatened her in Swartzwald's sanctum. She wasn't merely afraid of destruction, she was afraid of losing her identity, of becoming part of that massive metal monstrosity, just like she did when her memory core was installed in Big Fau. So she hadn't escaped without some emotional scars; he didn't think that she could.

Rosewater seemed to know what to say to push the right buttons. Both he and Dorothy were terrified, even though Big Fau was nearly blown in half and Big O was in top condition. It didn't make any sense! Why was he so afraid? It wasn't as if the sky had been replaced by giant stage lights…

He looked at his monitors. It wasn't possible. Huge metal girders supporting giant stage lights had replaced the sky. Instead of the joysticks at the end of the control arms, he was gripping two sealed tomato cans.

"Oh no…" the negotiator quietly sobbed. "Not now…"

At Roger's feet the large center screen displayed a message: "CAST IN THE NAME OF GOD YE NOT".

* * *

On a desk filled with hourglasses a phone rings. Norman's hand picks up the receiver and a sinister voice says:

_Next: __Back to Reality_


	8. Back to Reality

_The Big O__ and all of its settings and characters are owned by Cartoon Network, Sunrise, and Bandai Visual._

THE BIG O:

ACT 28

SCAPEGOAT

_Chapter Eight: __Back to Reality_

Darkness. The only light shone dimly through a little window in the door. He didn't know where he was, only that his arms were wrapped around his body and that he was laying on a cushioned surface. He managed to roll his body to a sitting position, but with his arms restrained it was difficult. Where was he? What was he dressed in?

He seemed to be wearing pajamas, at least that's what his legs were covered with. His arms and torso, however were a different matter. The sleeves were too long and were tied behind him. He seemed to be wearing it backwards since he could feel straps and buckles in the back, not the front. Worse still, a strap went between his legs, making it impossible to take the strange coat off and painful to even try.

He didn't seem to be wearing shoes, and the room he was in smelled like a combination of a gas station restroom and soiled gym clothes. "Where am I?" he muttered out loud. "I was in a fight…" He listened. Moaning and sobbing could be heard, as well as gibbering and laughing. Wherever he was, it was a pit of the damned.

The light in the window increased. No, there was a second source of light bobbing and moving as footsteps joined the din. The sound of a keys jingling was heard and the door opened to reveal two shadowy figures. There faces were hard to make out because a flashlight was shining in his eyes.

"Mr. Smith?" asked a tall broad shouldered figure in a white double-breasted suit. "It's me, Doctor Rosewater," the man asked kindly. "Do you know who you are?"

"M-my name is… Roger Smith…" an unshaven Roger mumbled. "I perform a much need job here in the city of amnesia…"

"Yes, well, that's mostly right," the man stepped forward to reveal the tight skin and prominent cheekbones on his skull like face. "Roger? Do you know who I am?"

"You're… Alex Rosewater…" Roger rasped.

"Why yes, that's right," Rosewater smiled. "It's me… Doctor Rosewater, your physician. Do you know where you are?"

With the light spilling into his cell, Roger could get a better look at his surroundings. The walls were padded like upholstery. He was wearing a straitjacket! No wonder he couldn't use his arms! "I… I'm in an insane asylum…" he stammered. "I'm in a madhouse!"

"Why yes, that's right again," Rosewater grinned. "Although we prefer to call it a sanitarium. You're making excellent progress Mr. Smith. Come, let's get you cleaned up." The orderly next to Alex Rosewater lifted Roger to his feet and escorted him out into the hall.

"Don't listen to them!" shouted a voice from another cell. Roger turned to see a bandaged face leering at them through a tiny window in the door next to Roger's cell. "They want to hide the truth! The truth about this city! The truth of what happened forty years ago! They want the truth to be erased! To remain hidden for all time!"

"Now Mr. Seebach, you know better than to upset the other patients," Rosewater scolded. "It does no good to be putting ideas in Roger's head you know. Calm down and we can commence with your treatment in due course."

"I don't need treatment from the likes of you!" Seebach spat. "My name is Swartzwald, not Michael Seebach, and you will never see your darling reporter again! Forty years ago, something happened! All of us lost our memories, and it is people like you who want to keep them for yourself!"

"Please Mr. Seebach…" Rosewater began.

"Swartzwald!" Seebach shouted. "You told everyone I was dead! You had your little angel tell everyone that I was dead! But now your lapdog knows the truth, doesn't he? I'm alive, and I want to be free! Do you hear me? Information wants to be free!"

"The poor man," Rosewater shrugged as the orderly helped Roger follow him down the hall of doors. "Don't worry, Mr. Smith. Once you're cleaned up, I'll meet you in my office."

Roger ignored the orderlies stripping him of his clothes and subjecting him to a cold shower. His mind was whirling with questions. Who was Roger Smith? What was he doing in a lunatic asylum? How could Alex Rosewater be his doctor? Wasn't he the president of the Paradigm Corporation? Where were Dorothy and Big O?

Soon Roger was in a change of clothes and sitting in Rosewater's office. He didn't get his own clothes. He got a uniform made of thin, soft fabric: White elastic pants and a white shirt with slippers for the feet. No ties, belts or shoelaces that he could use to hang himself.

Medical degrees and bookshelves adorned Rosewater's office, and the man in the white polo jacket sat behind a big mahogany desk in a wide backed chair as if it was a throne. "All right, let's take a look at your case Mr. Smith," Rosewater said as he put on a set of reading glasses and opened a file. "Ah yes, the amnesia case. Do you know who you are? How much do you remember about your own personal history?"

"My history..." Roger muttered, "the history of a man named Roger Smith, is nothing but boring. Raised in an orphanage but gained an education due to an affluent foster family, I could never develop any sense of pride working for the military police defending law and order in Paradigm City as one of Dan Dastun's men. So...I used some incident as a pretext to leave the force. It wasn't much longer after that...when I met him. When I met Big O."

"Ah yes," Rosewater nodded sagely. "Big O. You talk about it a lot. How did you get involved with Big O?"

Roger relaxed in the chair and let his voice rattle on without him. "It was purely on a whim that I had latched onto the idea of making that broken-down, decaying bank building, just outside of the domes, into my home. Or so I thought. But it seems that wasn't the case. Big O...was waiting for me."

"I see," Rosewater scribbled in a notebook. "So you feel that it was your destiny to pilot a giant robot in order to fight…" he flipped through his notes, "…other giant robots. Do I have that right?"

Roger nodded helplessly. "Yes, I suppose so."

"I know this is confusing, even frightening to you," Rosewater said gently, "but in reality you're making incredible progress. We might be able to take you out of solitary and allow you to socialize with the other patients. You doubt these illusory memories of yours. That's excellent news. It means that there's hope for recovery."

"Who am I?" Roger asked pointblank. "Who am I really?"

"Roger," Alex sighed, "I don't know how to break this to you, but you were never adopted by wealthy foster parents. You remained in the orphanage until you were grown. After that you were a drifter, a wanderer. You never joined the military or the police. There is no such thing as giant robots. I assure you, the rest of us haven't lost our memories."

"You… haven't?" Roger asked. "Not even the elderly?"

"Well some of the elderly do have memory problems," Doctor Rosewater admitted, "but most of those cases are due to Alzheimer's."

"Alzheimers?"

"But I assure you, the world hasn't lost its memory, giant robots don't run amuck and you aren't a professional negotiator," Alex Rosewater assured him. "I'm sorry, but you're just an ordinary man who's met with unfortunate circumstances."

"B-but… who am I?" Roger asked fearfully. "What do I do?"

"I'm afraid that you don't actually _do_ anything, Mr. Smith," Alex said condescendingly. "You're unemployed, one of the homeless. Your condition makes it impossible for you to get a job. If it wasn't for state funded medical care you'd be starving in the streets."

"What?" Roger blinked as he tried to clear his head. "But I'm Paradigm City's top negotiator…"

"No Mr. Smith, I'm afraid you're not," Alex shook his head sternly. "There is no such place as 'Paradigm City' except maybe in a comic book. You're simply a homeless man who's fallen through the cracks. These delusions you suffer from keep you from living a normal life. For a while we thought you were incurable, but don't worry, the medication is finally having an effect. Let's get you into a new room and let you socialize with the other patients and we'll see how it goes, okay? We'll take things slowly. The real world may not be as glamorous as the one in your head, but I assure you, it has its own rewards. Alan, you can show him out now."

Roger Smith wandered through blandly painted halls to enter a cafeteria. He ignored the various patients watching television or playing board games preferring to explore his own thoughts.

"Who am I?" he thought to himself. "What am I doing here?"

He watched a patient that looked like Jason Beck play cards with some other inmates. When he saw Roger Smith he winked.

"I could have sworn that I was in a fight," Roger scratched his chin. "That I was a negotiator. Had my memories been mistaken from the very beginning? Who was that I was portraying? Was I portraying someone in illusory memories? In a world I used to be in, all memories and all records of events prior to forty years ago had vanished. From that point on, maybe, we had been portraying people other than ourselves."

At another table, a girl that looked like Dorothy Wayneright sat listlessly, ignoring the world the same way Roger was.

Roger glanced up at the florescent lights on the ceiling. "Paradigm city negotiator...the man named Roger Smith. The man who would team up with Big O. I was only an actor who played those parts. If those roles were taken away...I would have no reason to exist."

Roger was so wrapped up in himself that he didn't notice a cadaverously skinny orderly whose messy blonde bangs covered his eyes saunter into the cafeteria. His blood red lips smiled hideously as he searched the room.

Roger ignored him, looking at the wall. "I'm nothing but a man whose existence has no value and meaning in this place," he sighed.

"Well-well, look what we have here," the pale blond orderly smirked as he approached the languid Dorothy Wayneright. "Looks like someone forgot to eat and drink again today."

Roger inhaled. He knew that voice. It belonged to Alan Gabriel, the psychopathic cyborg who betrayed the Union to work for Alex Rosewater! "Not all memories are pleasant ones..." he muttered.

"Robots do not eat or drink," the weary girl replied. "We run on electricity and high grade oil."

"Hm, I'm afraid we're out of that at the moment," the orderly that resembled Alan Gabriel taunted, "but I would recommend the mashed potatoes, or if that's too hard for your system, baby food. Do you need me to feed it to you? You know how much I would love to put something inside your mouth…" He teased as he picked her up by the shoulders.

In an instant, Roger was on his feet and had his hand on Gabriel's shoulder. "Get your hands off of her!" he cried as he delivered a punch to Alan's chin.

Dorothy collapsed back into her chair, her terrified lavender eyes staring at the fight.

"Look boys," Beck taunted from his table. "Looks like someone's going back into solitary. Boy, when I faked my insanity plea, nobody told me there'd be this much entertainment!"

"Roger, no," Dorothy implored as she rose to her feet despite her weakness from malnutrition and dehydration. "I am not worth it! I am just an android!" She extended her hand in Roger and Alan's direction.

"You're more than just an android, Dorothy!" Roger exclaimed as he punched the grinning Gabriel in the stomach, "and I'm more than just a mental patient!" He through Alan into the wall and was satisfied to see him bounce off and fall to the floor. "Get up! You're not so tough when you're not a cyborg," he taunted. "You've been asking for this a long time—Yagh!"

Roger felt an electric shock against the back of his neck and he fell over in a jerky spasm. A beautiful blonde nurse who looked exactly like Angel was standing behind him carrying a clipboard and a taser. "Mr. Smith," she sighed. "Not again… You were making so much progress too."

Alan wiped the blood off his mouth and smiled, his eyes still hidden by the bangs of his blond hair. "Looks like the medication isn't working," he snickered. "We're going to have to use more drastic measures," he laughed sinisterly. "Electroshock therapy, party of one!"

As Roger was placed on a gurney, he felt as though he was disassociated from his body. It was as if he was an observer who was watching a movie from the inside of one of the participants. His thoughts couldn't focus on what was happening around him, so he concentrated his inner struggle.

"Among my memories which I myself already know to be uncertain, the most unpleasant of all is starting to reawaken," his inner voice told him as he was shackled to the gurney like Frankenstein's monster. "This emotion that I'm feeling right now...it's so primal...so illogical...an emotion I never wanted to feel again," he mused as a rubber block was inserted into his mouth before he was gagged by a mask. "A feeling of terror...a feeling I don't want to admit to having."

"Shouldn't we wait for Doctor Rosewater?" Angel's voice asked.

"Do we have to?" Alan Gabriel answered childishly. "Isn't it more fun to do this ourselves?"

"Electroshock can affect the memory you know," Angel debated. "From his chart, Mr. Smith has enough problems with memory already."

"His memories are fictitious," Gabriel sneered in his effeminate voice. "If anything goes wrong he won't miss them."

As Angel bent over him, Roger could feel a gelatinous substance being rubbed on his temples.

"It really turns me on to see you apply the conducting jelly," Gabriel taunted in a perverted voice. "You like touching him don't you? You like being his caretaker, it allows you to get near him…"

"You probably deserve to be committed more than he does," she growled. Before she was merely arguing by the numbers but now she was getting irritated. Had Alan's taunts hit a nerve?

"I really should have kissed her when I had the chance," Roger thought.

"Do you fantasize about strapping me down and rubbing conductive jelly on me?" Alan teased. "If you ever do so it's only fair to warn you, I might start to like it."

"You know, I believe you would," Angel grunted. "I'm going to get Doctor Rosewater. While I'm gone, don't touch _anything_!" she snarled.

The orderly that resembled Alan Gabriel cackled in an insane effeminate laugh after she exited. "She doesn't really expect me to just wait here and let Doctor Rosewater have all the fun, does she?" he grinned in Roger's face. "Honestly where's the fun in that?"

Alan's laughter echoed in the chamber as sweat formed on Roger's face.

"Time to get this jalopy started," the sadistic orderly said as he put what appeared to be headphones on Roger. Instead of placing them on his ears, he put them on Roger's temples where the jelly had been applied. "Time to warm up the generator, Mr. Smith!" he said as he pulled a switch.

Roger realized that Alan was deliberately prolonging the preparations so he could enjoy his victim's fear. In despair, Roger closed his eyes and attempted to block the world out. He ignored the voices of Angel and Alex Rosewater, for their arrival wasn't really a rescue, it simply meant that Alan wouldn't get in trouble.

"All right," Rosewater's overly reasonable voice intoned. "Everything seems to be in order. Twenty seconds should do it." He pushed a button and Roger's body stiffened as the world went blurry on him.

* * *

On a desk filled with hourglasses a phone rings. Norman's hand picks up the receiver and a sinister voice says:

_Next: No Business Like Show Business_


	9. No Business Like Show Business

_The Big O__ and all of its settings and characters are owned by Cartoon Network, Sunrise, and Bandai Visual._

THE BIG O:

ACT 28

SCAPEGOAT

_Chapter Nine: __No Business Like Show Business_

Who am I? Who is Roger Smith? Is that my real name?

After shock therapy, Roger had a hard time remembering anything. He couldn't remember where he was or what he was doing there. He didn't even know why he was in Rosewater's office and why Rosewater was talking to him.

He looked out the window at a city without domes. A city that was perfectly intact. Was this city so awful? A newer, cleaner city than the one he remembered. Only one thing was wrong with it. It was a city that had no place for him. No place for the actor who called himself Roger Smith.

"It almost seems like the thought of continuing to live in this city makes you feel like a prisoner," Doctor Rosewater said as he watched Roger look out the window. "You don't know what sort of being you really are. That's why you're frustrated. Do you intend to spend the rest of your life living that way, Negotiator?"

"What?" Roger grunted in surprise. Did Doctor Rosewater just call him 'Negotiator'? That was impossible, for in this world Roger was just a wanderer. Was Rosewater mocking him, or was that the only way the doctor could get his attention? "Yeah, I guess…" he mumbled noncommittally.

"It looks like our session is done for today," Rosewater said with disappointment. "I really don't think that we're going to accomplish anything else right now. Why don't we try again tomorrow and see if we get anywhere then? Would that be alright?"

Roger nodded helplessly and then rose and shambled out the door.

"Be seeing you," Rosewater called after him.

Who was the man named Roger Smith? Did he have any reason to exist, or was he just fooling himself? If he didn't have a reason to live, could he find one or was he simply doomed to be a cipher?

Once again he wandered into the cafeteria. How much time had passed since the last time he was here? What had happened to his short-term memory? Who were these people? The patients and orderlies were familiar, indicating that his subconscious was translating them into his dream world.

The patient who looked like Beck was there, ordering Dorothy around. "Shine my shoes, Dorothy-bot," he said.

"Yes, Mister Beck," she said as she before the sitting criminal and started rubbing his slippers with a paper towel.

"Dorothy? What are you doing?" Roger asked, sounding more like the black clad man from his dream world.

"I am obeying the human order, Roger," she replied. "As an android, I am programmed to obey."

"Well stop doing what he says," Roger said angrily. "You are your own person and you don't have to do what he says!" He looked at Beck, murder in his eye.

The blonde crook put up his hands in a placating gesture, but his stupid grin never left his face. "Hey-hey! I'm just having a little fun, crow-boy! Besides, she likes it. She needs to be ordered around or she just sits in the corner and never does anything."

"Well, knock it off!" Roger growled. "You're taking advantage of her, and I don't like it!"

"I don't like it either," Beck drawled as he leaned back and smiled at the ceiling. "Problem is, I don't understand the consequences of my actions so I can't be held accountable." He grinned sarcastically at Roger. "I really can't tell right from wrong. Not my fault."

"Shut up," Roger frowned as Beck laughed at him. "Come on Dorothy," he said as he led her to a table by the window. "Dorothy, what are you doing in this place?" He frowned when he noticed the pale skin clinging to her bones. "Have you eaten anything today?"

"Robots do not eat or drink," she said listlessly.

"Um…" Roger racked his brain for an answer to that one. "That's not true. You're an advanced model that runs on sugars and proteins. Uh… you've been upgraded to appear more human. Trouble is, your engine doesn't run on regular fuels anymore. You have to eat or you'll shut down, and your program is so complex that we may never be able to turn you on again."

"Very well, Roger, I will eat something and test my upgrades," she said.

"Feeding time," an effeminate voice sang. Roger looked up at the mocking face of Alan Gabriel. Correction, the orderly that resembled Alan Gabriel.

"I can feed her," Roger told him.

"Nonsense," Alan smirked. "I'm a trained professional and you're a violent mental patient. I wouldn't trust you to feed a doll, let alone a girl."

Roger clenched his fist. "Must be the shock treatment, but I can't remember. Have I ever been violent towards anyone but you?"

"Does it matter?" Alan leered.

"I'll feed her," Roger repeated. "She trusts me. Whatever is wrong with her, having you around only makes her worse."

"Oh, and you would know, wouldn't you?" Alan sniggered. "You act like what you say matters. But it doesn't. Dorothy would rather have me feed her than you, wouldn't you my dear?"

"No I would not," Dorothy said.

"You see?" Roger took the bowl of baby food away from Alan. "Go away."

"Dorothy, I order you to tell him that you want me to feed you," Alan said mockingly. "I order you to tell him that you are madly in love with me and can't wait to get me alone."

"Why you!" Roger reached out to seize the grinning scarecrow, but stopped himself. He took a deep breath and sat back down. "Well played. I almost fell for that one." He turned to Dorothy, who looked at him helplessly. "Well it won't work. Dorothy has received an upgrade that gives her free will. She doesn't have to do what you say unless she chooses to. Isn't that right, Dorothy?"

"Yes, that is correct," she replied in a monotone. "I am now able to make my own choices."

"No you aren't you stupid puppet!" Alan growled as he reached out to seize her by the collar. "You are just an empty doll and you do what _I_ say!"

Dorothy let out a scream and closed her eyes, but other than that offered no resistance.

"Alan!" Angel's voice called out. In the doorway was the nurse who appeared to be Angel, staring at the drama with steely eyes. "That's it, Alan! I've suspected you of abusing the patients for a long time, but now I've caught you in the act! You are deliberately sabotaging Miss Wayneright's treatment! When I tell Doctor Rosewater what I just witnessed you are out of here!"

"What? You can't do that you little traitor!" the skinny blond orderly hissed at the blonde bombshell.

"I can and I have to you sadistic pervert!" Angel shot back. "For crying out loud, Roger Smith thinks he pilots giant robots and he makes a better orderly than you do! You've had this coming for a long time, Alan. I'm just sorry it took so long!" With that she turned on her heel and left the cafeteria.

Alan Gabriel ran out of the cafeteria and followed her. "Nurse! Wait!"

She turned and scowled at him. "What?"

"You don't understand," he smiled menacingly. "Mr. Smith is a dangerous psychopath. He's very dangerous."

"You're describing yourself, Alan," she sneered.

"You don't understand," he repeated as his hands gripped her throat. "He could do _anything_," he grinned as Angel choked and seized his wrists in a futile attempt to free herself. "He could even kill a sweet, innocent nurse like yourself. It really is a shame, because we'll have to give him a frontal lobotomy and I know that you like him so much… Hurk!"

Alan gasped as Roger put his arm around his neck to place him in a headlock. "Let her go, or I'll break your neck," the scruffy patient growled. "I like _her_ too, but I don't like you!"

The order was unnecessary because Alan had already released the nurse to pull against Roger's arm. Angel staggered back, hands clutching at her throat. Roger released Alan and wasn't surprised when Alan turned to strike him. Before Alan could finish his swing, Roger had already punched him in the stomach. Dorothy, who was nearly unnoticed during all of this, put her hands over her mouth and staggered over to lean against Roger's chest when it was clear that Alan wasn't ready to get back up again.

Angel clutched at her neck, but recovered quickly. She smiled at the heroic patient. "Are you going to stop running?"

"I'm ready to face whatever awaits me," Roger answered confidently.

"Even when you don't know what's real?" the nurse asked as darkness enveloped them.

One by one spotlights turned on, illuminating the darkness but completely blinding Roger. He put a black-gloved hand before his face and staggered backwards, bumping something behind him. He was wearing his black suit again! He examined the wood and plaster half wall behind him, only to discover it was made to resemble the stone railing on his rooftop patio atop his home. A painted backdrop resembling Paradigm City was behind it.

"Shame on you, Negotiator," Alex Rosewater's voice scolded. "You've damaged the scenery. Sometimes I think that you and Big O do more to damage the backdrop than all of the other giant robots combined."

"You've got a lot of guts saying that, when you've nearly destroyed the city all by yourself!" Roger retorted. He was on a stage in a theatre, but the lights made it hard to see the audience. He could almost make out the broad shouldered white suited figure of Alex Rosewater in the front row. "How dare you make me a scapegoat for your own folly!"

"The only folly here is yours," Rosewater replied calmly. "Your purpose is to be the domineus of your megadeus. The city's only function is to be the backdrop for your battles. If you can't or won't live up to your role, I'll just have to close the curtain on this show and produce another one."

"You're talking crazy!" Roger protested. "I'm not an actor and Paradigm City isn't a stage!"

"All the world's a stage," Alex smirked, "and all the men and women merely players: They have their exits and their entrances; and one man in his time plays many parts. Do you know who said that? No, I don't suppose you do…"

"Where's Dorothy?" Roger demanded. "She was right with me a minute ago!"

"Oh, so you've decided to play the hero have you?" Alex's voice seemed amused. "She's right beside you, but I wouldn't get your hopes up."

Roger glanced to his right and gasped when he saw Dorothy standing right as still as a mannequin. "Dorothy?" he passed his hand before her glassy eyes. "Dorothy, speak to me," he murmured as he grasped her shoulder to shake her. Something was wrong. She was way too light! She couldn't have weighed more than thirty pounds. "What? This isn't Dorothy!" Roger found out why she was as still as a mannequin. The figure before him wasn't an android, it _was_ a department store mannequin sculpted to look like her and dressed in her clothes! Was nothing real?

"That was a cheap trick, Rosewater!" Roger shouted.

"More feeling, please," murmured a familiar feminine voice.

"Wha?" he squinted to look out into the theatre past the blinding stage lights. He could make out a blonde woman sitting a few seats away from Alex's brawny form. "Angel! What are you doing there?"

"You know my father made her the director," Rosewater drawled. "You better listen to her. It would be a shame to end this production and plan another one."

"Paradigm City isn't a stage, and Angel isn't a director," Roger insisted. "You aren't a producer and I'm not an actor!"

"How do you know that?" Alex asked him calmly. "How do you know that Paradigm City isn't just a sham? Nobody in it has any memories past forty years ago. Your memories don't support your own argument. Didn't my father reveal the truth to you?"

"Your father wouldn't know the truth if it beat him with a stick!" Roger spat. He glanced at the replica of Dorothy for inspiration. "I can prove that Paradigm City isn't a sham by virtue of my intelligence. According to Occam's razor, the simplest explanation is usually correct. This farce your subjecting me to explains nothing. If this is a show, who is it for? Who's watching it all? You aren't making any sense."

Roger took a step forward but stopped when Rosewater said, "Careful, Negotiator. Leave the stage and you forfiet your place in the pagent. The show must go on you know."

Roger's heart was racing so fast it was hard for him to think. It was becoming too easy to be lost in this imaginary world. It _was_ imaginary, wasn't it? Was he really here, or was he in Big O fighting Alex Rosewater and Big Fau? Or was he really not in either place, but a third location like an insane asylum? Nothing was real… Was there any point going on?

Roger closed his eyes and took a breath. "Okay, I'll play along," he announced. "Angel, you're the director. What is my role in all this? Who is Roger Smith supposed to be?"

"Aren't you supposed to say 'what's my motivation'?" Angel teased.

"Okay, what's my motivation?" Roger conceded. "What is this all about? Why the elaborate charade? What do you want out of me?"

"That's up to you, Roger," Angel replied. Was it his imagination or was she now wearing a military uniform instead of her little black dress and pink jacket? It was hard to tell with the spotlights blinding him. "Are you going to face your responsibilities or are going to run away again by telling yourself that it's all in your mind?"

"It _is_ all in my mind isn't it?" Roger said ruefully. "I understand now. The reason why a megaduce only accepts those who believe in one truth is because after a while a domineus can't tell what's real anymore, is that it?" He crossed his arms and put a finger to his mouth while he considered his statement. "Or does Big Fau have some sort of device on it that causes hallucinations? Everytime I've lost touch with reality I've been in Big O fighting Big Fau or megadeus' that have Big Fau's pieces in them. And just before each fight I've spoken to either Gordon or Alex Rosewater. You're doing something to me aren't you?"

"You can't blame me for your own shortcomings, _Negotiator_," Rosewater sneered. "If you can't handle your own doubts, it doesn't help to blame them on me. You don't know what sort of being you really are, and that's why you're frustrated." The same words he had used as Doctor Rosewater, but the Alex Rosewater Roger knew was no doctor.

"Why are _you_ frustrated?" Roger snapped. "Tell me, why does a man who rules the city feel the need to destroy it? What's the deal with that huh?" When Rosewater didn't answer, he unfolded his arms, clenched his fists and said, "As for what sort of being I am, that depends on my choices, and right now I choose to be the thing between you and the destruction of the city!"

"You really believe that you can make a difference, don't you?" Alex retorted. "You've cast me in the role of the villian. Well now, how do you know I'm not the hero?"

"You've betrayed everyone who ever had the poor judgement to trust you!" Roger replied. "In a fair deal, everyone places their cards on the table."

"If everybody did that, there would be no need for professional negotiators," Alex responded with wry amusement. "Don't expect me to do your job for you, _Negotiator_."

"That's what you've always wanted, haven't you?" Roger pointed an accusing finger at Rosewater's shadowy form. "You've always wanted to be a domineus! It was even more important than running the city!"

"How can you second guess me when you can't even determine your own motives?" Rosewater sparred. "If you refuse to play your role, someone else will have to."

"The only role I'm willing to play is the part I choose for myself!" Roger declared. He put his watch to his lips. "BIG O! SHOW…TIME!"

_Next: Take the Shot_


	10. Take the Shot

_The Big O__ and all of its settings and characters are owned by Cartoon Network, Sunrise, and Bandai Visual._

THE BIG O:

ACT 28

SCAPEGOAT

_Chapter Ten: __Take the Shot_

Roger found himself back in the cockpit of Big O, facing the white megadeus known as Big Fau. Big O was on his back, his arms held up to shield himself, just as he had done while throwing the fight to the Union robot that Vera Ronstadt, as known as the Union's Agent Twelve, had called 'Bonaparte'. How long had he been away in his dreamland? It couldn't have been very long, because Big O didn't seem to be damaged. Like the last time he imagined himself a homeless wanderer, it seemed that he had imagined hours and days in the span of minutes and seconds.

Had Big O been knocked over by the force of Big Fau's blows, or had the black megadeus simply decided to 'play dead' while Roger sorted himself out? Who knew? And with a crippled white megadeus menacing the city, who cared? Big O had always played it straight with Roger in the past. It made no sense to doubt the black megadeus' motives now.

"C'mon, Big O! On your feet!" Roger growled encouragingly as he operated the arms and pedals in his cockpit. "Let's go big guy! Rest time's over!"

He glanced down at the central screen to see the iconic message: "CAST IN THE NAME OF GOD--- YE NOT GUILTY".

Roger smiled. That meant that the pilot and the megadeus were once again in synch, that once again they were united in their purpose. If they believed in themselves and each other they could accomplish any task. Big O had always left the choices to Roger Smith in the past. It was as if the black megadeus and Roger shared the same subconscious. The only time Big O overrode him was when it wanted him to abandon it and go save…

"Dorothy!" he gasped as Big O rose to its feet. The sickening sound of an impact was heard as he saw Dorothy bounce off the rose-colored semi-transparent armor in the front of the control room. Dorothy wasn't inside the clear protective bubble of the cockpit that separated Roger from the rest of the control room. She wasn't strapped in! "Dorothy are you all right?" he shouted at the android. If she was a human being she would be seriously injured—or dead.

To his relief, Dorothy rolled to place her feet on the floor. She didn't rise, but instead crouched in a fetal position and whimpered "No… No…"

It was exactly like the time the skeletal megadeus that Swartzwald found underneath the city and threatened her. And Roger was willing to bet that Dorothy was frightened for the exact same reason. Her memory drive had been installed in Big Fau less than a month ago and her identity stolen. She was afraid of the same thing happening again. It was like a phobia, only Dorothy had good cause to fear. That white megadeus had managed to get inside both their heads!

"Snap out of it, Dorothy!" Roger ordered. "I won't let that thing hurt you again! I'm going to take down that monster once and for all!"

"On your feet at last, Negotiator?" Alex Rosewater's mocking voice taunted him from a speaker as the white megadeus fired an energy beam at them. Roger managed to block and a blinding explosion and a cloud of smoke erupted from Big O's arm shields. "It's about time you stopped laying down on the job," Alex scolded. "You're making this far too easy."

Damn Alex! Whatever mind affecting technology was in Big Fau, it used the target's own doubts to incapacitate him. Worse yet, both Gordon and Alex seemed to know exactly what to say in order to dredge up memories and visions out of Roger's subconscious. What had that old man done to him when he was a child? Big Fau was nearly cut in half and yet Rosewater was going to defeat him simply by saying a few words…

A few words! That's it!

He may have been chosen to be a domineus, but it was Roger's choice to be a negotiator. And a negotiator's greatest weapon is words. Time to let the negotiator have his turn in this fight.

"Hey Alex, I can't help wondering," Roger called in a mocking voice. "Why are you doing this? I mean, you have enough money and power to even make your worst enemies do what you want, so why do you need a megadeus? There must be some reason…"

"I now have the power that only a megadeus can provide," Alex replied smugly. "I now can surpass the world my father built, and take my place among the gods!"

"Why do you need to do that?" Roger asked, obviously not impressed. "Where you ever bullied at school? I'll bet the other kids must have just _loved_ you. Alex, son of the great Gordon Rosewater. That's an awfully big shadow to be stuck in. Makes you feel pretty small doesn't it? Makes you wonder if you measure up."

"I am everything my father once was!" Alex growled. Roger must have hit a nerve. "I shall surpass my father and finish what he started!" the chairman insisted. "No one shall forget the name of Alex Rosewater!"

"Yeah, until the next guy comes along," Roger said dryly as he flicked a switch that caused a spike with a massive chain shoot out of Big O's hip. "Then he'll undo everything _you_ did and try to make his _own_ mark on society. I wouldn't be surprised if he tried to erase everybody's memories just to be sure."

"No one will replace Alex Rosewater!" the chairman roared. Big Fau fired the huge cannon out its remaining shoulder, but Big O was able to use the chain to move itself to the left. In the distance a damaged skyscraper was hit, causing the tower to collapse in a cloud of smoke and rubble.

"Why not, you've replaced Gordon, haven't you?" Roger quipped as Big O fired its eye lasers to rake the front of Big Fau. "Did your father ever tell you that he loved you? I mean, you've got no friends or loved ones. You don't want any. He never taught you how to open up to anyone did he? Must be a pretty lonely life."

"My father was a god!" Rosewater cried. Lasers shot out of Big Fau's eyes, but Big O countered with its arm shields.

"Did he ever play catch with you or take you to any ball games?" Roger asked as he operated the megadeus' arm controls and foot pedals. "Did he even talk to you when you were a kid or did you only see tutors until you were grown?"

"Shut up!" Alex ordered as Big Fau hobbled forward attempting to reach Roger's megadeus. "My relationship with my father is none of your business! He loved me!"

"You handle that megadeus pretty good," Roger smiled as Big Fau came closer. "Where did you get the memories to operate that thing? Did we go to school together?" A missile was fired from Big Fau, but Big O's chest opened and a bunch of tiny flares soared out. The missile followed one of the flares, causing it to miss its target.

"Did you ever have your head shaved when you were a kid?" Roger asked with false sincerity as a nearby explosion caused debris to fly through the air. "Stare into a fire and watch the books burn? See a barcode flash before your eyes? I see that kind of stuff all the time and man it's a pain in the neck. Doesn't that drive you crazy? Makes you wonder just who and what you are, doesn't it?"

"I am not one of your tomatoes!" Alex screamed as a periscope style arm sprouting from Big Fau's shoulder fired a beam at Big O, only to be thwarted by Big O's arm shield.

"_Sure _you're not," Roger said sarcastically. It looked like parts of the lucid dream he had three weeks ago were true. Alex had remembered being one of Gordon Rosewater's test subjects! "Your problem is that you don't know what sort of creature you are, and that's why you're frustrated," Roger mocked using Alex's own words against him. "When you first operated Big Fau after you defeated the Union robot, you turned your weapons on your own palace. The fortress that your father built. Deep down you must really hate him, don't you?"

"I loved my father!" Alex shouted. "Don't you dare say that!"

"Then why did you try to have him killed?" Roger retorted. "You burned down his farm and murdered his hired hands. When I found him, he was in hiding. The Union rescued him, but he refused to tell them anything…"

"No!" Alex said childishly. "My father is dead!" Big Fau's forearm launched itself to soar towards Roger Smith and Big O. Once again Roger used Big O's hip chains to move the lumbering megadeus out of the way before the turbine drilled itself through Big O's armor.

"No he isn't," Roger countered as he operated the foot pedals in order to stabilize the footing of his stumbling megadeus. "Unless he's had a heart attack or fell down a flight of stairs since I last saw him. He should be fine. He's chosen a new successor, a lady friend. Someone to run the place since you seem bent on destroying it…"

"No!" Alex screamed as Big Fau dragged its nearly useless leg to close the distance between itself and Big O. "No! _I_ am Alex Rosewater! Paradigm City's only heir! _I_ am destined to be the ruler of all mankind!"

"Sorry, not gonna happen," Roger quipped as his left joystick rotated to reveal a different hand control with a trigger guard. "Whatever he did to us as kids really messed us up. I got a hard time telling reality from fantasy, don't you? We gotta find the other bald kids and form a support group…" Roger pulled the trigger as Big O's left forearm opened to reveal four cannons spaced around the hand. He pulled the trigger and was disappointed when nets, tear gas and flares flew out. Oops. Forgot about the less-lethal ammunition.

Fortunately it didn't matter. "Damn you, Dad!" Alex roared. "I am your only son! How could you do this to me?"

"Hey, he's my dad too," Roger whined sarcastically. "I'm an orphan. He's like a father to me. Me and all my baldheaded brothers and sisters…"

"Shut up!"

"You may have gotten the company, but _I_ got the megadeus," Roger teased as Big Fau came within punching distance of Big O. "I guess Father always loved me best!"

"No! Shut up!" Alex spat. "_I_ am the son of Rosewater, _Negotiator_!"

"Negotiator is a name I chose for myself," Roger replied as Big O spread its legs slightly to assume a battle stance. "I can't live in Gordon's shadow, I had to make my own identity. Too bad you haven't. You've been trying to be your father your entire life only to discover that you can't. That's sad, Alex. I pity you, and that walking jigsaw puzzle of a megadeus you dragged along with you. I'll bet the poor thing is as crazy as you are by now…"

"Shut up Negotiator!" Alex growled as Big Fau threw a punch that Roger caught in one of Big O's massive hands.

"Aha!" Roger exclaimed as he pulled on his joysticks to have Big O grapple the white megadeus. "Gotcha! You don't have a force field up now!"

Now came the fun part. Big O had to wrestle the white Megadeus to keep its chest weaponry from entering into the equation.

Fortunately Big O had two arms to Big Fau's one. Big Fau's weight might overbalance the black megadeus, but Roger fired a number of chains out of Big O's waist. The spikes dug into the ground and stabilized it, allowing Roger to concentrate on the upper half of Big O's body.

A punch from one of Big O's massive arms pivoted Big Fau to the side. Roger released the chains from Big O's waist so the black megadeus could maneuver and keep Big Fau from facing him. Big O grabbed the side of Big Fau's head and activated the piston in that arm.

Big Fau stumbled drunkenly backwards and was about to tumble to the ground when Big O's hip chains shot out to puncture its side. Big O pulled on the chains to keep the white megadeus upright but off balance. Seizing Big Fau's head, once again Roger activated the arm piston. This time the blow ripped Big Fau's narrow conning tower like head clear off. The white megadeus was now missing a head, an arm and over a third of its torso.

Big Fau's head hit the ground and bounced twice, knocking huge chunks of asphalt and debris with each impact. Finally it rolled, and then skidded along the ground for few moments kicking up rubble and dust all the way. It single remaining eye stared up at the sky, the other half of its face ruined by Big O's piledriver.

In Big Fau's cockpit, the exposed Alex Rosewater was near panic. "Big Fau!" he shouted. "We've got to move or it's all over! Destroy that megadeus and we can restore you!"

"Not gonna happen, Alex!" Roger retorted as Big O's fists hit the white megadeus again and again.

* * *

As the two megadeuses battled each other a number of armored vehicles bearing howitzers rolled up. Following them was a limousine with a tiny flag that displayed the Paradigm Corporation's logo.

Colonel Dan Dastun in full uniform, stepped out of one side of the limo while burly and dusky skinned Gregory Stoker, immaculate in his business suit and sunglasses exited from the other.

"Here you go, Colonel," Stoker rumbled. "As you can see, the members of Anderson and Roddenberry Companies have been reinstated and are back on duty, as per our agreement. Now it's time for you to live up to your end of the bargain."

"Yeah," Dastun said uneasily. "Right. Don't worry, I won't disappoint."

"See that you don't," Stoker replied, but the colonel had already dashed forward to find the senior officer.

"Johnson!" Dan bellowed. "What do we got to work with?"

"Sir!" the younger man in a lieutenant's uniform exclaimed. "We thought you were in prison!"

"I got out on a technicality," Dastun quipped. "What have we got to take out that thing?"

"Dual-purpose, white phosphorus, and copperhead rounds," Johnson replied.

"Not that they've done any good against megadeuses before…"

"Tell me about it," Dastun sighed. "Have we got anything more armor piercing? If so, when will it arrive?"

"Copperhead is the best we have at the moment," Johnson replied. "It's a high explosive munition which is used for very precise targeting of high value targets such as tanks and fortifications. It requires the target be designated with a laser designator system."

Poor kid, Dastun thought, he's so rattled he's reciting the capabilities by rote. "It's okay, Johnson. Looks like the black megadeus has everything well in hand. Let's concentrate on containing the situation and let justice sort itself out. Have your company create a perimeter…"

"Colonel," the coffee-colored Stoker rumbled. "We reinstated you so that you could act. You aren't going to leave this up to the megadeuses."

"Excuse me?" Dastun turned to the boardmember.

Stoker gestured to a number of trucks that were approaching. "Those vehicles are loaded with an experimental armor piercing round," the boardmember purred. "Your men are authorized to use them and find out if they can pierce the armor of a megadeus."

"Sir the black megadeus…" Dastun began.

"The black megadeus isn't giving you your life back," Stoker warned. "Remember that." He pointed a ringed and well manicured finger at the massive robots in the distance. "Once your men have the cannons loaded, order them to fire."

"What?" Dastun exclaimed.

"You heard me," Stoker rumbled.

"Mr. Stoker, do you know who's _in_ there?" Dastun asked increduously. He couldn't believe that Rosewater kept all of his secrets from the board. He was pretty sure that Stoker knew who both the pilots of the megadeuses were. "Are you seriously expecting me to fire on…"

"Yes I am," Stoker said firmly. "The black megadeus is becoming a symbol of Paradigm's impotentence. We won't let the insurgents use it. You have to act and bring the military police up to par. It is your job to make sure the the people know that it is the military police, not the black megadeus, who protects the city. As soon as you able, take the shot."

* * *

On a desk filled with hourglasses a phone rings. Norman's hand picks up the receiver and a sinister voice says:

_Next: The Fall of Big Fau_


	11. The Fall of Big Fau

_The Big O__ and all of its settings and characters are owned by Cartoon Network, Sunrise, and Bandai Visual._

THE BIG O:

ACT 28

SCAPEGOAT

_Chapter Eleven: __The Fall of Big Fau_

The punch that Big O gave Big Fau knocked the white megadeus backwards and sent it staggering. With its left leg barely connected to the rest of its injured bulk it was a miracle that it could stay on its feet.

"You see, Dorothy?" Roger said as he worked the controls. "Stand up and face your fears! You don't have to be afraid anymore! Big O and I won't let anything happen to you!"

Dorothy rose to her feet and held on to the wall with one hand to steady herself. Standing up wasn't really the smartest thing to do with Big O moving around like this, but she followed Roger's instructions anyway.

"Roger, why are all of those cannons pointed at us?" the android asked.

"Hm?" Roger's attention was still on Big Fau. "Big Fau doesn't have any cannons aimed at us. That's why I'm moving around to its damaged side, so it won't have any weapons to point at us."

"No, I mean the military police," Dorothy clarified.

"Huh?" Roger looked at a screen and noticed the armored vehicles with their howitzers pointed at the struggling megadeuses. "Big O, give me a close up." The image of the military vehicles vanished in a burst of static to be replaced by the image of Dan Dastun giving instructions to his officers.

"Well I'll be!" Roger smiled. "This is too good of an opportunity to pass up!"

"What are you going to do?" Dorothy asked him.

"I'm going to give Dastun a chance to fulfill his dreams!" Roger chuckled. The black clad young man pumped the foot pedals and the massive megadeus started walking. Roger pulled on the joysticks to control the arms of Big O the entire time they were moving.

"Roger you are moving us to the intact side of Big Fau," Dorothy pointed out.

"All part of the plan, Dorothy," Roger assured her. "Got'cha!"

Both of Big O's hands were locked on Big Fau's remaining arm. Big O's waist turned to force the white megadeus to stagger in a semicircle around the black megadeus. Big O then wrapped its arms around Big Fau's arm and hunched down, its head leaning on the white megadeus' tower like arm.

"What is he doing?" Dastun asked as he witnessed the bizarre struggle through his binoculars. "Why doesn't he just take that thing down? Wait a minute!" Dastun's eyes widened in realization. "I get it now! Johnson, do you see what he's doing? He's exposed the white megadeus' unarmored side to us. We can lob shots right into it and bypass the armor!" He put his radio to his mouth. "All units, lock targeting lasers on the exposed sections of the white megadeus and prepare to fire!"

Inside of Big O's cockpit, Roger struggled with the joysticks. "C'mon, Dastun!" he growled. "What's taking you so long?"

A periscope like arm extended out of the white megadeus' back to fire an energy beam that raked Big O's head and shoulders. Although Big O's red crystalline crown deflected the beam when it passed over the megadeus' head, the black megadeus' torso and arms were scarred as the beam bit into the hull.

"Let go of me!" Rosewater shouted from inside Big Fau's cockpit. "You can't take Big Fau away!" he whined childishly. "Big Fau is _my_ Big! He's _my_ Big! You can't do this! I am the domineus of megadeus!"

To Alex Rosewater's horror the message scrolling across the central screen between his foot pedals said: "CAST IN THE NAME OF GOD--- YE NOT".

"Wha?" Alex glanced around to see the keys and switches on the sides of his cockpit activate themselves. With a pneumonic pop, one of the cables attached to his spine jerked free of his back. "Yagh! Eee! Aah!" One by one the cables detached themselves from him as he jerked spasmodically in his chair. "Big Fau! No! Don't abandon me!" he sobbed as he collapsed forward in pain. "Don't go away…"

"Sir!" Johnson called as he peered through his binoculars. "Inside the white megadeus! There's a man in there! I think it's Alex Rosewater!"

"I don't care if it's _Gordon_ Rosewater!" Dastun retorted. "Take that thing out!" Dastun put his radio to his lips. "Fire!"

One by one the cannons on the armored vehicles fired. Explosions erupted from the unarmored sections of the white megadeus as the shells bypassed the hull to burrow into the interior of Big Fau.

"No!" Alex cried, sitting back up in his chair. "Big Fau! You've got to move! You've got to let me save you or we'll—" His cries were drowned out by a massive fireball that obscured the cockpit and sent debris everywhere.

"Whoa!" Roger exclaimed from Big O's cockpit. As the cannons fired, Big O was using Big Fau's bulk as a shield to protect itself. "They're really letting Alex have it!"

"Big Fau is dead," Dorothy said quietly. Why did she sound so sad?

More explosions were heard inside of Big Fau's shell. As massive explosion caused shrapnel to fly through the air at the howitzers in a retaliatory strike.

"Look out!" Dastun cried. "We turned that white megadeus into a shaped charge! Everybody take cover!" With that the colonel entered the closest armored vehicle as Johnson rolled underneath.

"What the?" The burly Stoker ran back to his limousine to hide behind it.

Wreckage and debris tumbled through the sky to land with earsplitting shrieks and crashes through the ranks of the military police. The armored vehicles took the impacts in stride, although the cars and trucks were worse for wear. A particularly large piece of metal impaled Gregory Stoker's limousine, completely caving in the roof and sending shattered glass flying.

"Johnson, are you alright?" Dastun roared as he opened the door to his mobile howitzer.

"Here sir," the young lieutenant coughed as he dragged himself out from under the vehicle. He was covered in dust, but seemed to be okay.

Dastun looked over his shoulder to witness Stoker standing up behind his ruined limousine. The board member's scowl made his dark face even darker. Had Stoker wanted Dastun to target the white megadeus or the black one? Was he still a supporter of Alex Rosewater's 'New Order' or had he washed his hands of it? Oh well, Dastun figured. He should have been more specific. When push came to shove Dastun always fired at the giant robot attacking the city instead of the giant robot defending it.

"Let's find out who's injured and get some emergency vehicles out here," Dastun suggested.

Johnson nodded, and then pointed over Dastun's shoulder. "Sir! The black megadeus!" the breathless lieutenant exclaimed. "It's still firing!"

"What?" Dastun turned to see for himself. The black megadeus was firing a concentrated beam of energy from its red crown. Fortunately the beam was directed at the shattered carcass of the white megadeus.

"What is it doing?" Johnson asked out loud.

"He's making sure," Dastun muttered.

Inside the black megadeus, Roger continued to focus the weapon he called the 'chromebuster' at Big Fau's shattered remains.

"Roger, is that really necessary?" Dorothy asked him.

"Sorry, Dorothy, I don't want anybody rebuilding that thing," Roger replied. "More importantly, I want to take out whatever mind affecting device is hidden in there. Hold on."

Dorothy grabbed a hold of the wall as Big O bent over to use the piledriver in one of its arms to pulverize Big Fau's severed head. Roger was so intent on completely reducing Big Fau to scrap metal that he didn't notice Dorothy turn her head and flinch with each blow the black megadeus delivered. "Roger, please stop," she murmured.

"Hm?" Roger grunted as Big O's fists knocked another hole into the shell of the white megadeus. "What was that, Dorothy?"

"Roger, stop," she repeated. "It is not necessary to continue mutilating it."

"If you could tell me what part the psychological weapon is in, we could get this done a lot faster," Roger suggested. He stopped and paid more attention to his passenger. Dorothy was leaning against the wall and looked very fragile, more like a vulnerable human than an android with perfect posture. "Dorothy?" he asked gently. "Are you ok?"

"I am fine Roger," she said without facing him.

"I thought that it wasn't all right for you to lie," he said before he had Big O stand up straight.

"It isn't all right for me to lie to _Norman_," she clarified. Was she joking? If so, that was probably a good sign.

"Dorothy?" Roger asked quietly. "You still don't think of yourself as… part of Big Fau do you?"

"I was," she nodded, finally turning to face him. "I understand what it was to be Big Fau. I understand the demons that drove Alex Rosewater. I feel sorry for them. I know that it was necessary to destroy them, but it seems cruel to desecrate their remains."

"You're sure that Big Fau is… dead?" Roger asked hesitantly. "That thing got into both our heads, Dorothy. We don't need it haunting us again. I don't want anymore hallucinations."

"You don't know that Big Fau caused them in the first place," Dorothy's emotionless voice was almost… testy.

"I want to get eliminate at least one suspect then," Roger smiled. "So far, my worst visions seem to occur when we face Big Fau. Even if it wasn't the cause, it had to be a mitigating factor."

The shadows in the control room made the android's neutral expression look like a frown.

As a negotiator, Roger couldn't resist the temptation to bargain for a better deal. "Tell you what, I'll stop flattening Big Fau if you tell me why you don't want me to look at your blueprints."

Dorothy responded by looking away.

"Fine, consider Big Fau pulverized scrap metal," he said as Big O continued attacking the white megadeus' inert hull. Roger could only continue his assault for another a minute or so before he sighed and looked over at the sullen android. "You win, that's enough for today," he mumbled, "but only if you let Norman take a look at you when we get home. I worry about you, you know."

"Yes Roger," she said quietly. "I know."

The military police watched as the black megadeus sank into the ground. The dust storm its exit summoned rivaled that of the destruction of the white megadeus. Dastun held his gloved hand over his nose and mouth as Big O vanished and the massive crater in the ground fell in on itself. When the dust cleared, he saw Roger's long black car drive up.

"Hi there, Dan!" Roger called as he rolled the window down. "I heard that the military police took out the white megadeus! Nice job!"

Colonel Dastun leaned against the obsidian car to stick his face into Roger's window. "You gave it to me, didn't you?" he asked. Dorothy remained silent in the passenger seat.

"Don't look now, Colonel, but your public awaits!" Roger pointed behind the officer. Dastun glanced behind him to see a van pull up with the _Paradigm Press_ logo on it. Roger laughed. "Tell them that the black megadeus seemed to be in trouble, and that you had to bail it out!" the young man snickered. "That ought to make the front page news!"

"Just what the hell do you think you're playing at?" Dastun growled.

"It's important that the faith be restored in the military police," Roger explained as he suddenly became serious. "The marshal may have fell in with the 'new order' but you didn't. You symbolize the honest cops in this town. You can't be bought and you protect everyone in this city whether they live inside or outside the domes. You just proved it by taking down Alex Rosewater and saving the city from annihilation."

"Now wait a minute!" the colonel protested. "That's not the truth and you know it!"

"Dastun, Big O can't save this city," Roger said sadly. "Only you can. The black megadeus may be great at taking out giant robots but it can't restore people's faith in law and order. Maybe it's time I acknowledged my limitations, and let the most courageous, the most honest cop in the city have a chance to show us what he's got."

Dastun smiled and nodded, recalling a similar conversation with Roger in the past. At that time it was Dastun who was lamenting the fact that the military police couldn't protect the city. This time Roger was telling him that it was Dastun's chance to save the city, this time from itself. "Time to get on my white horse, huh?" he grunted.

"Looks like it," Roger shrugged. "Come on down to my place and have a drink when you've got the time. I still haven't finished off that bottle you were admiring last time you were there."

"Oh really?" Dastun raised an eyebrow. He couldn't remember that last time Roger invited him, or anybody for that matter, over to his house. "Sure thing, but God only knows when I'll have a chance to come over. Now get out here, it looks like I got a press conference to go to."

"Whether you like or not," Roger teased as he rolled up the window.

"Humph," Dastun grunted as the long black car drove away. Still there was a wistful smile on his face before he turned to face the reporters who were coming towards him.

"Colonel Dastun!" a brunette lady reporter in a purple dress called to him. "Is it true that it was the military police who took down Alex Rosewater and the white megadeus?"

"Uh, yeah," scratched the back of his neck uncomfortably. "The black megadeus seemed to be having a malfunction or something so I gave the order to fire. We must have hit the power source, 'cause the explosion sent shrapnel out of it like a shaped charge!"

"Colonel Dastun!" a male reporter with sandy blonde hair waved to get his attention. "Is it true that you were relieved of your duty and arrested for disobeying orders?"

"Um… no. I was placed in protective custody until we could determine who was still part of the 'New Order'," Dastun muttered as he recalled the lie he had memorized. "My arrest and discharge were all a ruse until my life was out of danger. I assure you, the military police will do all it can to find the conspirators behind the 'New Order' and bring them to justice. We won't let anything like this happen again. The Paradigm Corporation has agreed to cooperate with our investigation and we expect to make some arrests soon. In the meantime we ask everyone to keep calm and let us put this city back together. Next question?"

"Colonel Dastun!" a photographer cried. "Could we get a picture of you with the ruins of the white megadeus behind you?"

"Sure, why not?" the colonel shrugged. "Knock yourselves out boys."

In the ebony sedan nicknamed 'the Griffin,' Roger negotiated the damaged and dilapidated streets of the city.

"Do you think that Colonel Dastun will be able to calm the city?" Dorothy asked the man in black. "Do you think that the people will stop rioting?"

"I don't know, Dorothy," Roger admitted. "All I know is that most people prefer what they know to something new. My guess is that deep down, the residents of this insane city want things to go back to normal."

"Do you think we did the right thing?" Dorothy asked him. "Do you think that it was right to leave the Paradigm Corporation in charge of the city?"

"I wish I knew," Roger admitted. "The whole group of them deserve to be put up against the wall and shot but I'm afraid that we'll get a totalitarian state in exchange. Whether we like it or not Gordon Rosewater's capitalistic vision is the evil we know, and hopefully the lesser of two evils."

"Is the evil we know always the lesser of two evils?" Dorothy asked.

"It's the evil that we know how to live with," Roger shrugged. "Humans hesitate before facing an evil they don't know how to handle. Call us pragmatists or cowards but that's just the way we are."

"Perhaps it is difficult to gamble when you have something to lose," Dorothy offered.

Roger smiled and looked over at the young girl. "Perhaps you're right."

* * *

On a desk filled with hourglasses a phone rings. Norman's hand picks up the receiver and a sinister voice says:

_Next: Epilogue _


	12. Epilogue

_The Big O__ and all of its settings and characters are owned by Cartoon Network, Sunrise, and Bandai Visual._

"_And Forever" Lyrics by Chie, Composition/Arrangement by Ken Shima_

THE BIG O:

ACT 28

SCAPEGOAT

_Chapter Twelve: __Epilogue _

It was few days later that Colonel Dan Dastun finally arrived at the white tower that was Roger Smith's home. "To what do I owe this honor?" Roger teased when he greeted his old friend.

"Some smart aleck invited me over, remember?" Dastun growled.

"Oh yes, that's right," Roger smiled mischievously as he poured himself and Dastun a drink. "This calls for a toast. To the man of the hour."

"I'm surprised there's anything left in that bottle," Dastun said as he took a full glass tumbler from Roger's black-gloved hand.

"Thank Dorothy," Roger shrugged. "I would have drank myself to death if it wasn't for her. She got me out of my shell and put me back to work."

"Something bothering you, Roger?" Dastun raised an eyebrow. It wasn't like Roger to admit weakness.

"You're probably wondering why I didn't use Big O to overthrow the Paradigm Corporation," Roger replied, deflecting the question. "The people are ready for a change. All I had to do was give it to them. They would follow such a powerful symbol too."

"And you made me that symbol," Dastun muttered. "I spent two weeks in jail. What took you so long? I thought I hired you _before_ I was arrested."

"If you're not happy with my work, you could always go back," Roger winked.

"I ought'a put _you_ in the pokey," Dastun sparred. "But I won't 'cause I'm curious. Okay, I give. Why _didn't_ you take over the city? You've got a good reputation. People would follow you."

"Do you really think that I'd be that different than Alex Rosewater?" Roger asked, all levity leaving his face.

"You'd have to work real hard at being worse," the officer shrugged. "What? You're gonna give me that 'power corrupts' stuff and all that?"

"No it's just that…" Roger sat down on a couch and looked away.

Dastun sighed and sat down in an easy chair. "A lot happened while I was in the big house huh?"

"No it's not that," Roger shook his head. "It's just that ever since the Ellen Waite case I've been plagued by these visions."

"Visions?" Dastun queried. This was new.

"Call them memories, lucid dreams or hallucinations if you like," Roger nodded without looking at his friend. "They seem to get worse whenever I face the white megadeus or Gordon Rosewater."

"Well, you flattened the white megadeus and Gordon Rosewater died in a fire," Dastun offered. "That should leave you in the clear."

Roger had to bite his tongue to avoid asking whether or not Dastun found a body. He took a breath and faced his friend. "Dan, when the Union launched its aerial assault and Alex Rosewater tried to destroy the city, I saw the sky disappear to be replaced with giant stage lights." He paused as he let that revelation sink in. "Do you really think anyone that far gone should be running the city? It's bad enough that a nutjob like that has access to a megadeus, but being in charge of policy? No thanks!"

Dastun took a breath and let it out slowly. "Roger… we all saw a lot of strange stuff that day. Maybe the Union or the white megadeus released some kind of gas that made us all hallucinate. I myself saw a movie called _Winter Night Phantom _that starred a guy called Dan Dastun as the cop."

"You're kidding!" Roger smiled and shook his head.

Dastun didn't smile. "Nope. And in the audience there was this little boy that looked just like me at that age. What are the odds of that?"

"Any old girlfriends you need to look up?" Roger offered.

"I found out about the attack on the city when a shell collapsed the roof of the theatre," Dan continued. "I wasn't hurt but a piece of shrapnel almost split the kid's head open. If he survived that wound's going to leave one hell of a scar."

"A scar?" Roger blinked. "Exactly where did that boy get hurt?"

Dastun removed his hat to reveal the intricate network of scars on the right side of his bald head. "Right… here," he said as his finger traced the pattern across his dome. "What are the odds of that, huh?"

"Yeah," Roger agreed weakly. "What are the odds?"

"So you see, a lot weird stuff happened on that day," Dastun continued. "You aren't alone in this. The whole town went nuts. We just have to find a way to get it sane again."

"Do you ever wonder if that boy really exists somewhere?" Roger asked him. "Do you really think he's you or something?"

"I just get down on my knees each night and thank God that I'm too stupid to think about it very much or truly understand what it means," Dastun replied grimly.

"You're smarter than you think you are, Dastun," Roger nodded ruefully.

"Just don't tell the Paradigm Corporation that," Dastun grunted. "They're looking for a honest cop who's too stupid to take bribes and too dumb to seize power. And for the time being, that's what I'm going to give them."

Roger took a deep breath and bluntly asked the question he'd been dreading. "How long do you think it will be before someone in Paradigm decides that a dead hero is easier to control than a living one?"

"I don't know," Dastun admitted. "I hope its not anytime soon. Paradigm's forcing me to milk my popularity for the moment, but I don't dare get _too_ popular. It will make them think that I'm getting ideas."

"You might want to wear a bulletproof vest when you're at work," Roger cautioned.

"And when I'm at home," Dastun sighed. "Looks like I'm going to have to watch my back more than ever now."

"If things start to smell bad, you can always crash at my place until the wind changes," the negotiator offered. "We can make plenty of room here."

"What's gotten into you?" Dastun snarled. "It would drive you crazy to have me here and we both know it. Why are you being so nice all of a sudden? Giving a condemned man his last request?"

"No, my motives are purely selfish," Roger assured him. "Dorothy said that I push all of my friends away. A guy who's losing sight of reality shouldn't isolate himself or he won't know fact from fiction after a while."

"Do you do everything that android tells you to?" Dastun cracked a smile.

"Only when she's right, which is getting to be too damn often," Roger admitted ruefully. "Whose advice am I supposed to trust, the girl whose clockwork brain can see things objectively or the crazy guy in the black suit who's just _seeing things_? I need some help getting my head on straight, that's all. And you need someone who can watch your back. The door is open. If you want we can both win."

"Be careful, Roger, I just might take you up on that offer," Dastun warned him. "I may be too proud to ask for help, but I'm not as stupid as I look either. If you're not careful, you might get yourself a new roommate."

"Let's hope Paradigm City calms down before it gets that far," Roger shrugged. "If you got the time, would you like to go shoot some pool?"

"These lucid dreams of yours really got you shook up, don't they?" Dastun smiled as he rose to his feet. "No thanks, I gotta get back to covering my ass. Tell you what: Let me know when you go to bed and I'll drop by and tuck you in," he joked as he put his hat back on.

"What's the penalty for striking a military police officer?" Roger quipped as he stood up too.

"These days?" Dastun shrugged, "Who knows? Probably capital punishment or something. Oh well, _something_ good had to come out of this. Thanks for everything, Roger. Watch your back."

"You too," Roger nodded as they shook hands.

"Tell Dorothy thanks for me," Dastun said as he turned to leave. "From the sounds of things, I have her to thank for getting you off your ass."

"Behind every great man there's a woman, Dan," Roger chuckled as he walked him out the door. "Mine just happens to be a tireless, unrelenting android."

"You should go pretty far then," Dastun said as they got to the elevator. "I gotta find me a woman of my own," he joked.

"Got anyone in mind?" Roger said as he pulled the lever to descend the car.

"How about that blonde girlfriend you got with the Union?" Dastun shrugged. "You know, Agent 316? Angel? From what I understand she's got both the foreign agents and the Paradigm Corporation out to get her. There's one woman that wouldn't be needlessly endangered by being within ten feet of me. She's expendable because she's a target already!"

"She's not hard on the eyes, either," Roger said as the elevator reached the ground floor. "Unfortunately I haven't seen her ever since the Union bombed the city. Well, I haven't seen her when I'm sane at least," Roger corrected himself thinking back to his dream of being in an insane asylum. "I'm looking for her myself. I hope that she can help me make sense of all the things I've seen…"

"Or think you've seen," Dastun added as Roger opened the door to the elevator to let them out.

"That's right," Roger nodded as they stepped out of into his office. "Hopefully she can explain your trip to the movie theatre too."

"Huh," Dastun grunted. "More like it she'll just have a story of something crazy she witnessed at that time herself."

"You're probably right," Roger sighed as they strode to the door. "I just hope that she's still around to tell us that story."

"Me too," Dastun sighed wistfully as well. "To tell you the truth, I'd like to be able to protect her. It might make up for…"

Roger looked over at his friend carefully.

Dastun was just staring at the wall, not really looking at anything. In his mind's eye, the officer saw a foggy dock where a police officer was forced to shoot a blonde foreign agent who just happened to be the woman he loved.

Roger was quiet, giving Dan all the time he wanted to decide whether or not to continue.

"…Well, let's just say that it would make up for a lot of things," Dastun finally finished. "We rounded up a lot of foreign operatives at Paradigm's orders. They probably deserved it, but…"

"But what, Dan?" Roger asked him.

"I know that your little Angel had no intention to harm anyone or destroy anything," Dan finished. "There's a lot people who were _born_ in this city who can't say the same. She's not a bad person, Roger. I don't think she is, anyway. Like me, she just had a job that asked her to do things that she didn't always believe in."

"I'd settle for just believing that my name is Roger Smith and that I really live in a place called Paradigm City," Roger muttered.

"What is this, a contest to see which of us is more messed up?" A smile crossed the officer's craggy face. "If I play my cards right, I'll be in charge of the military police, and as for you… did you get any money out of this?"

"Enough to make you think that I own my own mint," Roger's smile was no longer bitter, but smug.

"I thought so," Dastun said as he opened the door to leave. "I'll leave you to your fancy clothes, your expensive car, your butler and your pretty little robot housekeeper while I go out and take total control of all of the military ordinance and law enforcement personnel in the city. We sure got it rough, don't we?"

"We'll manage somehow," Roger smiled as the colonel walked outside. "See you around, Dan. Watch your back."

"I'll do that," the officer called over his shoulder. "You just remember to watch yours! No telling who Rosewater shared his dirty little secrets with!"

Dastun had a point, Roger reflected when he shut the door. In the last few months, it seemed that nearly everyone knew that he was the pilot of Big O. The Paradigm board members seemed ignorant when he had met them the other day, but it was hard to believe that they didn't know. Would they see him as a threat? What dirty trick would they pull to get back at him? Oh well. Tomorrow was another day.

* * *

The next day…

Roger awoke to hear a thunderous concerto being played in the parlor just outside his room. Sleep still in his eyes, he burst out of his room to shout at the android girl whose fingers danced across the keys of a magnificent grand piano.

"R Dorothy Wayneright!" he roared. "What is the meaning of this? Did you move Instro's piano all the way up here to annoy me?"

"This is a new piano that arrived this morning," Dorothy explained while she continued to play. "This is the final payment from the Paradigm Corporation for your consulting services. If you remember, you asked them to provide me with a new piano since Instro's had been damaged by the weather."

Roger pulled on his hair and growled in frustration.

_NO SIDE_

* * *

Dorothy and Roger sit on a large hourglass the size of a barstool. Behind them is an orange background. The sound of a piano and the duet of a man and woman singing can be heard.

_Sometimes I feel so all alone_

_Finding myself callin' your name_

_When we're apart, so far away_

_Hopin' it's me that you're thinkin' of_

_Could it be true, could it be real?_

_My heart says that you're the one._

_There's no one else, you're the only one for me._

_Yes, this time my love's the real thing._

_Never felt that love is so right._

_The world seemed such an empty place._

_We need someone we could give our all._

_Baby, it's you, we'll be together now and forever._

_Could it be true, could it be real?_

_My heart says that you're the one._

_There's no one else, you're the only one for me._

_Yes, this time my love's the real thing._

_Never felt that love is so right._

_The world seemed such an empty place._

_We need someone we could give our all._

_Baby, it's you, we'll be together now and forever._

_Never felt that love is so right._

_The world seemed such an empty place._

_We need someone we could give our all._

_Baby, it's you, we'll be together now and forever._

* * *

On a desk filled with hourglasses a phone rings. Norman's hand picks up the receiver and a sinister voice says:

_The Nine Muses of Death_


End file.
